The Same Situations of Six Different Men
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Three couples that we know and the things they do differently throughout their day. Just having fun. I do not own Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Seb Moran or James Moriarty.
1. Chapter 1

**The same situations of six different men**

We meet the first pair of men promptly at 6 o'clock AM, when, no matter the little amount of sleep he got the night before, Mycroft Holmes rises from his bed. He looks over at the body next to him and sighs. He slowly half smiles then tiptoes to the bathroom to have a very, very quiet shower.

It usually doesn't work, being as quiet as possible. Greg can hear everything; how he does it Mycroft will never know. But he does, he hears Mycroft silently hum along with the water pounding lightly against the shower wall. Greg sits up, smiles, then slips on his pajama pants and goes to the kitchen.

By the time Mycroft's out of the shower, Greg has to pee so badly his bladder hurts. And no matter how deep they are into their relationship, Greg Lestrade has not and will not pee in front of Mycroft Holmes. Just. No.

So while Mycroft's in front of the mirror shaving, Greg lightly knocks the on the door then opens it. "Hey, do you think I could—"

"Can't wait just a second more?"

"I really don't think I can."

"Oh, all right." Mycroft sets his razor down and steps towards the door. He stops for a second in front of Greg, first gazing at his chest then up to his eyes. "Good morning." Mycroft quickly kisses Greg's lips then leaves the bathroom for Greg to do his business.

When Greg's finished he opens the door and Mycroft waltzes back in, picking up his razor and continuing to shave like there was no disturbance. Greg picks up his toothbrush and begins to brush. They continue in the bathroom in a comfortable silence.

After Greg puts his toothbrush down, rinses his face, decides he's not going to shave, he shrugs at his reflection then turns to Mycroft and smiles. He wraps one arm around Mycroft's waste and kisses his cheek.

"Breakfast?"

Mycroft -with a mouth full of mint- nods. Greg smiles once more and leaves the room.

We meet the second pair of men at 7:30 AM, wrapped around one another in a warm silence.

"Sherlock," John whispers, "Let go, I need to shower."

"No. Warm." Sherlock pouts.

"Then get in the shower with me."

"No. Wet." Sherlock pouts more.

John sighs. He tries to pry Sherlock's arm off of him, it doesn't work. "I'll do it."

"You wouldn't."

"I have and I will."

What _it _is that the men of 221B are referring to and what John has, will, and is doing is tickling Sherlock's sensitive ribs until Sherlock lets go and John slithers out of bed.

"Hey, not fair!" Sherlock shouts at John as John closes the door to the bathroom.

Five minutes later. John's short body is being shoved by Sherlock's tall body in their cramped yet somehow perfectly sized shower.

"I know you only went to sleep about four hours ago, go back to sleep." John says to Sherlock.

"No, I've got a busy day. Much to do. Besides, this will cut down on our water usage."

"What have you got to do today?"

Sherlock squirts the shampoo onto his palm, "We're out of shampoo."

"I just bought this one."

"Well, it's empty. You can hear it. Those awful _squirt _sounds." Sherlock shudders, "I've got to meet Greg at the station, then I have a lunch with Mycroft, then—"

"You've got a lunch with your brother?"

"Yes."

"Why does that surprise me?"

"We have lunch twice a month."

"Why didn't I know that?"

"You don't pay attention."

"I pay attention to everything you do." John dodged Sherlock's elbow as it flew up to scrub Sherlock's scalp, "Mind your elbow, will ya? Come to think of it, love, did you use my shampoo last week in that experiment—"

"You do pay attention, I'm touched."

John stepped forward toward Sherlock, and then quickly retracted his leg.

"Hey," Sherlock bellows, "Watch your legs. You almost kicked me."

"That was on purpose."

Sherlock glares. John smiles, kisses Sherlock, then steps out of the shower.

"Hand me a towel." Sherlock demands. Two seconds later, a towel crushes against the shower curtain, startling Sherlock and making him jump. "I could have just died!"

"How, exactly?"

"I-I-Oh, shut up."

We meet the second pair of men at 7:55 AM. An alarm beeps on the bedside table and the owner doesn't bother with it. His partner, however, raises an arm and smacks the alarm clock's owner across the back. The owner grunts, then swats the alarm to the floor, hearing it shatter into tiny pieces at his feet.

"Damn it," he whispers before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and side stepping glass that somehow managed to cover the entire _this side _of the bed. He doesn't bother to clean it up now, he's focused on getting a shower and his teeth brushed before the second occupant of the bed needs the restroom.

He gets to the restroom and stares at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. He yawns, rubs his hand against the day old stubble on his chin, decides he needs to shave -at least his chin- then stretches his eyes and cheeks while mimicking a child's "funny faces" at himself in the mirror.

Then he gets in the shower, slowly and sensually cleaning himself. Of course handing _himself _is slow and sensual, he's the only person that deserves this behavior. He spends almost twenty minutes in the shower before getting out, being covered by steam in the bathroom. He forgot to turn the fan on, _Sebastian hates that_, he thinks. Oh well. He shrugs and wipes perspiration off the mirror.

He slowly and sensually shaves, brushes his teeth, carefully washes and moisturizes his face, then opens the door, watching the steam escape the tiny room.

He walks over to the lump on the bed, again avoiding glass, and pokes at the lump.

"Hey, get up," he gets in return a grunt from the lump. "Come on, it's almost 8:45. We've got an appointment at 10."

"Which means I can afford to sleep for an hour longer." Sebastian mumbles into the pillow.

"No, if you get up now, it'll take you half an hour to eat, then ten minutes to shower, and _yes _you need to shave for this appointment. Big client, Seb. You don't want to disappoint," he gets another grunt in reply, "And wear the suit I bought you last week, please. The blue one, not the black one," another grunt is heard, "And for gods sakes, please get your hair cut tomorrow. You're not in the Army anymore, we have barbers here in England," the loudest grunt is made, "Stop grunting at me."

Sebastian sighs, "Fine, I'll be up in a second, ok?"

"All right." He leaves Sebastian in the bed and goes to the kitchen to begin his breakfast. He hears Sebastian sitting up in bed, then hopes he gets out on his side so he can avoid the glass that hasn't been cleaned up yet.

"JIM!" Sebastian shouts from the bedroom. "How is it that you make me need a cigarette so early in the morning?"

_Nope, apparently it was necessary to get out on my side_, Jim thinks.

"My feet are bleeding!" Sebastian rubs his eyes with his finger tips, "Perfect." He glances over at the closet and sees the blue suit staring at him. He sighs and falls back on the bed. He stays there until the blood on his feet dries then gets in the shower.

Big client today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Couple 1**

It's not often that Mycroft and Greg are graced with the other's presence in the middle of the day.

Not often as in hardly ever.

Hardly ever as in never.

But sometimes –apparently- their jobs meet and they must work together.

Luckily, neither have called Sherlock yet.

"Oh, Mycroft." Greg says as the elevator doors open to the site of Mycroft talking with his assistant Bart.

"Greg? What are you doing here?"

Greg motions behind him at Sally and Anderson. "We were called."

"Oh, of course, of course. This way, please."

The three follow Mycroft into his office. Mycroft goes over the gist of the case: Co-worker of Mycroft's found dead in his flat this morning by his wife and young son. Male, age 37. Enemies, of course, probably. Found with bruises around his left temple and broken ribs.

"Have you called—" Greg began.

"Not yet, I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

"Me too." Anderson snorted from behind Greg. Mycroft glared. Greg glared. Sally wondered why Anderson would say that in front of his brother that could have him dead in an instant.

"Well, I'll probably call him."

"Yes, I'll do it." Mycroft took his phone out to call Sherlock.

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock, listen, we need your help."

"Of course," Sherlock chuckles, "Where?"

"My office."

"You say 'we'."

"Yes, NSY and I."

Sherlock laughs, "Is Lestrade there?"

"Yes, _they _are."

Sherlock laughs again, "How's _that _going?"

"Are we doing this?"

"Isn't this what brothers do?"

"No, it's not."

"I'll be there in ten."

Mycroft and the other three begin going over evidence one more time. Greg lifts a photo of the victim one more time. "Henry Jones," Greg pauses to think then looked at Mycroft "Is this the guy you were telling me about yesterday that—" He cut himself off. He glances at Sally. Sally looked at him confused.

Mycroft coughs, "Yes, he was," he says quickly.

"Wait, what?" Sally asks.

"What?"

"Do you two…talk?"

"What?"

"Yesterday?"

"N-no," Greg stutters. He and Mycroft exchange a glance.

Sally eyes them suspiciously. Luckily, Sherlock arrives moments later and distracts everyone by with his high-horse of confidence. He solves the murder in record time, and the closing small talk after is just normal enough for Greg to escape without any more weird to go on. That is, until Sherlock says good-bye in form of, "Brother." Then turns to Greg, "Brother's boyfriend."

Greg will never again take a call from Mycroft's office. Not. Ever. Again. And if he does, Sherlock's not invited.

**Couple 2**

"Will you come?" is all Lestrade has to ask for Sherlock and John to be there. And it's often, mind you. Often enough that Sherlock's on Lestrade's speed dial, often enough that Lestrade's not sure which Holmes he sees more often. Often enough that John doesn't even bother checking to see if it is a '7', just because they're both that bored and will take whatever case is available.

Usually, while Sherlock's standing over a body and deducing away, John can only form words like, "Brilliant." Or "Amazing." Or "Superb." Or, if it's really doin' something for him, he'll get up on his toes and whisper "Sexy," at the lengthy detective.

But this time: John? Oh, John. John has his brilliance. John has his amazingness. John has his superbness. John has his sexiness. Sometimes, this time, John is the one to solve the crime. It's not hard, he's picked up on a few deduction skills from Sherlock.

John sits on the couch in Lestrade's office next to a boy named Ted. Ted is 7 and lost. "It's ok, Ted. Now, tell us where you live."

"I don't know. I don't know the address."

"How did you get here?"

"I was at the park, then I couldn't find my babysitter and so I walked around for a while until I saw a police officer."

"And you told him you were lost?" Ted nods. "Ok. What is your babysitter's name?"

"Linda."

"Do you know Linda's mobile number?" Ted shakes his head. "Do you know Linda's last name?"

"Wilson."

John looks up at Sally, silently indicating to her to scan for the name. "Ok, Ted. Just a few more things. What are your parent's names?"

"Mary and Tom."

"What are their last names?"

"Gray."

"Do you know their mobile numbers?"

"No."

"Do you know where they work?"

"My dad works in a bank. And my mum works in a school."

"All right. We'll find them, Ted."

Ted tugs at his left arm, trying to scratch and not hurt himself at the same time.

"What's going on there, Ted?" John asks.

"N-nothing."

"Have you got a rash? I'm a doctor, I can look at it."

"N-no. it's nothing."

"You don't want to let me see, Ted?"

Ted shakes his head. Five minutes later, while the grown ups are talking, John sees him clutch at his stomach and scratch the same way. "Ted? Can I take a look, please?" Ted begins to cry. He looks around the room at all the grown ups watching him and begins to cry harder. "Ted? Ted, look at me. Do you want everyone to leave so I can take a look at your arm and stomach?" Ted nods. Lestrade and everyone else leaves, even Sherlock. Once gone, Ted lifts his sweatshirt sleeve, revealing a large black bruise. Then he lifts his shirt and shows John the bruises on his stomach. "Ted, who did this?"

Ted stops crying. He lowers his shirt and whispers, "I can't tell."

"You can tell me, Ted, and I can make it so nobody does it again."

"They told me not to."

"You can tell me, I promise nothing will happen." John's having trouble keeping his voice calm while anger was surging through him. "Was it your mummy?"

"No."

"Was It your daddy?"

"No."

"Was it Linda?"

"No."

"Was it your teacher?"

"No."

"Please, Ted. We can help you."

"I can't." Ted began to cry again.

John covers his face, "Ok. Let me go talk to Mr. Lestrade once more, ok, Ted? I'll be right back." John goes to the hall and nearly screams in frustration. "We can't let him go home, Greg."

"If I've got nothing to go on, John, then I can't keep him."

"You can't let him go home where someone's hurting him."

"But I can't, not without evidence and—"

"Your bloody evidence is on the kid, Greg!" John shouts.

"John," Sherlock grabs John's elbow, "Calm—"

"Do not bloody tell me to calm down, Sherlock. I see this every day at the clinic, kids being beat by someone that loves them. No way, no way am I letting this go."

Half an hour later, while John is comforting Ted by playing games and making jokes, Linda shows up. She had been looking for Ted, as well, and once she got the call she showed up right away.

When Ted sees her coming through the desks of NSY, he tenses in John's arms. John looks down at Ted, then up at Lestrade, who is now watching Ted's face transform into content and happy to sad and scared. Sherlock is one second behind the other two, finally picking up on what's happening when Lestrade exits the office and intercepts Linda before she gets to the door.

"Just a few more questions, ma'am." They hear Lestrade say to Linda.

John looks down at Ted, "Ted, is she the one that's hurting you? Please tell me, Ted. We're going to help you."

Ted looks up at John with water in his eyes, then over to Sherlock. Sherlock sees the hurt and fear in his eyes and knows without a doubt that it's Linda that's been hurting him. Lestrade looks through the glass window at Sherlock, Sherlock nods, then Lestrade places Linda under arrest. She shouts and squirms the whole way out of the office.

Ted gives a relieved sigh as he watches Linda go.

"She won't hurt you again, Ted." John says. Ted faintly smiles up at him, John smiles up at Sherlock, Sherlock smiles down at both of them.

"Brilliant." Is what Sherlock's saying on their way to 221B after explaining the situation to Ted's mother. "Amazing. Superb."

"You might want to consider using words that I don't use. It kind of means less the way you're doing it."

"Extraordinary, John. Really. Not even I saw it. How did I not see it? Why did I not see it?"

"I see it every day, Sherlock. I know what it looks like. I know how I feel when I see it. Not good. Not good one bit."

"I'm proud, John."

"Now you know how I feel when you're brilliant."

"I like it, John."

"Me too."

**Couple 3**

"Can you hurry up?" Jim asks as Sebatian's holding his breath and trying to steady himself.

He lets his breath out, "Can you shut the hell up? This takes time, it's not a quick process."

"We have reservations at 8."

"Calm down, it's 6:45."

"Yeah, and at the rate you're going it's going to take us all night."

"I'm trying to _shoot _someone, Jim. I'm not buying new shoes," Sebastian holds his breath again, then lets it go, "Come to think of it, you buying shoes takes longer than this, so stop complaining."

"Just get on with it! It's not a bloody Picasso."

"Yeah, and it's not a bloody sport, Jim. So shut the hell up or take your reservations by yourself."

Five minutes of silence is ruined by, "Now."

"Jim."

"Seb."

"Go away."

"I'm not leaving without you, dear."

"Touching."

"You've got the cash."

Sebastian glares at Jim. "Shut up, then."

Three minutes of silence is ruined by, "Do it."

Sebastian sighs loudly, "Shut. Your. Fucking. Annoying. Little. Mouth."

One minute of silence is ruined by, "Go."

"Jesus Christ, Jim!" Sebastian stands and violently throws his hands in the air, "You fucking do it, then!"

Sebastian steps away from his perch behind the pillar and lets Jim settle in. Sebastian sits down and leans against the other side of the small walkway they're stuck in. Jim watches him sit.

"Get on with it, then." Sebastian says, lighting a cigarette. Jim watches him, then goes back to the scene through the scope: two men exchanging briefcases behind a building. "Do you even know which one it is?"

"May as well just shoot both." Jim says absentmindedly.

Silence is completely ruined by Sebastian's drags and releases.

"Can you stop that?" Jim asks.

"Nope." Sebastian takes a loud drag.

Five minutes of silence is ruined by, "Wrong."

"What?"

"You're doing it wrong."

"How am I doing it wrong, I'm shooting someone?"

"Don't put your finger on the trigger until you're positive."

"I think I can do this, Seb. It's not rocket science."

"All right." Sebastian takes another loud drag.

Three minutes of silence is ruined by Sebastian lighting a match, startling Jim. Jim jerks and pulls the trigger, letting a bullet sail over the supposed-to-be-victim's head.

"God fucking damn it, Seb."

"I told you."

"Fine, you know what? Fine. You do it." Jim stands, meeting Sebastian's chest with his own chest. He plucks the cigarette from Sebastian's lips and places it between his own.

"I need silence. And time."

"Take your time, dear."

Sebastian whispers to himself, "Three," he holds his breath, letting a little out for, "Two." He places his finger over the trigger.

"One," Jim says from behind Sebastian as Sebastian pulls the trigger.

"God damn it, James Moriarty. I'm going to shoot you right now, I swear it!"

"Did you get him?"

"Yes, I did, but no thanks to you, you annoying little pri—"

"Then obviously you weren't that bothered."

"Shut up. You're not coming along next time, even if we do 'Have reservations and this is just easier'," he tries to make his voice smooth and suave like Jim's, "Let's go."

"You like it when I'm here," Jim says as he pokes Sebastian's side while Sebastian packs.

"I don't."

"You do."

"Where are our reservations?"

"That place we had the night you killed that Argentinean man."

"I didn't like that place."

"You never told me that."

"I hardly ate my food."

"I didn't think about it."

"'Course not," Sebastian pulls his bag over his shoulder, "What am I to do with _this _while we eat?"

"I don't know, take it with you."

Sebastian glares at Jim, "Oh good, I can use it if you're extra annoying."

"Funny," Jim presses a light kiss to Sebastian's cheek, "Let's go."

"After you, Boss."

_*Ok, I can't figure out how to put breaks to indicate where each story starts and begins. I hope you can figure it out, if you can't, the second story starts at "Will you come?" and the third starts at "Can you hurry up?" If anyone can give me a tip as to how to put page breaks, that'd be greatly appreciated. Please enjoy and review! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Couple 1**

Sometimes Mycroft and Greg text each other while they're at work. It's not often, it's more often than seeing each other while working, but it's not often. Usually Mycroft starts because Greg won't bother him at work –no, really, two months ago Greg had to go to the hospital in the middle of the day but he insisted for nobody to call Mycroft.

Sometimes Mycroft picks up his phone and text Greg. And sometimes Greg can't reply right away because he's on a case. So Mycroft's texts look like this, and eventually his replies will look like…well, you'll see:

**To: Greg Lestrade 10:47 AM**

_Greg, I hope you're having a better morning than I am. We had a worker try to escape with the plans for next month's…well, never mind. Anyway, have a nice afternoon._

**To: Greg Lestrade 10:56 AM**

_Also, I was wondering if you're coming to my house tonight or if I'm to go to yours. It's all the same to me. _

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:17 AM**

_Although, if you come to my house, will you stop to buy shaving crème and toothpaste? I used the last of them both this morning._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:18 AM**

_And get some dental floss._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:20 AM**

_And mouth wash would be nice._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:23 AM**

_Actually, just come over to my house. I'll send for the groceries._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:25 AM**

_Sorry for all the messages._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:30 AM**

_I'll see you later._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:42 AM**

_Let's have Italian for dinner._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:53 AM**

_I miss you._

**From: Sherlock Holmes 11:53 AM**

_For god's sakes, stop texting Greg. We are busy, which apparently you are not. Go away, you're distracting him. Not that he's much help anyway._

**From: Greg Lestrade 11:54 AM**

_Did Sherlock just text you? Geez, I'm sorry. Come over, I'm cooking. I'll get your groceries tomorrow. I miss you, too._

**From: Sherlock Holmes 11:55 AM**

_Stop it. This is disgusting._

**To: Sherlock Holmes 11:55 AM**

_Sod off._

**To: Greg Lestrade 11:56 AM**

_See you later._

And once the exchange is over, Mycroft slightly blushes and puts his phone down right as Bart enters the room with the afternoon's agenda.

And Mycroft blushes and puts his phone in his pocket, then goes on trying to order Sherlock around because, "You really didn't have to do that, Sherlock."

**Couple 2**

Sherlock prefers to text, of course. And he's not considerate like Greg and thinks to not text John while John's at work. Sherlock's going to text John until John is in his coffin, and probably after that anyway.

And Sherlock doesn't text John about anything particular. He texts him for the hell of texting him. Does John mind? Sometimes. Does it annoy John? Sometimes. Does John reply? Well:

**To: John Watson 2:36 PM**

_John._

**To: John Watson 2:43 PM**

_John, come home._

**From: John Watson 2:46 PM**

_No. I am at work. I will be home in two hours._

**To: John Watson 2:46 PM**

_Two hours and fourteen minutes._

**From: John Watson 2:54 PM**

_Either way, I will be home before you know it._

**To: John Watson 2:55 PM**

_That doesn't make any sense. If I'm anticipating it, of course I'll 'know it'. _

**From: John Watson 3:10 PM**

_It's just an expression, Sherlock._

**To: John Watson 3:11 PM**

_Why is it taking you so long to reply?_

**To: John Watson 3:29 PM**

_John?_

**From: John Watson 3:46 PM**

_I'm working, Sherlock. I'll see you later._

**To: John Watson 3:48 PM**

_I'm bored._

**From: John Watson 3:55 PM**

_Sorry._

**To: John Watson 3:56 PM**

_Come home._

**From: John Watson 4:04 PM**

_One hour._

**To: John Watson 4:04 PM**

_Now._

**To: John Watson 4:12 PM**

_Please._

**To: John Watson 4:16 PM**

_I'm naked._

**To: John Watson 4:20 PM**

_[Photo sending…]_

**From: John Watson 4:22 PM**

_Did you just send me a picture of your dick?_

**To: John Watson 4:23 PM**

_Dunno._

**To: John Watson 4:25 PM**

_Better come inspect it._

**To: John Watson 4:27 PM**

_[Photo sending…]_

**From: John Watson 4:28 PM**

_Stop! Half an hour. Surely you can be patient for half an hour._

**To: John Watson 4:28 PM**

_I'll show you that I can't._

**To: John Watson 4:36 PM**

_John? _

** To: John Watson 4:43 PM**

_John, I'm going to shoot something and it won't be the wall._

**To: John Watson 4:48 PM**

_John?_

**To: Sarah [Sherlock's too lazy to find out her last name] 4:50 PM**

_Unhand my boyfriend._

**From: Sarah 4:50 PM**

_What?_

**To: Sarah 4:51 PM**

_Let John go this instant._

**From: Sarah 4:53 PM**

_John left twenty minutes ago._

**To: Sarah 4:55 PM**

_Oh, good. He liked my photos._

**From: Sarah 4:57 PM**

_Not asking, do not share._

**To: John Watson 4:57 PM**

_John? Where are you?_

**From: John Watson 4:57 PM**

_Have you gone deaf? I'm in the living room. Where are you?_

**To: John Watson 4:58 PM**

_[Photo sending…]_

**From: John Watson 4:58 PM**

_Ooooooooh. ;)_

Then, well, they didn't need to text any longer to convey thoughts. Although, if they did, that would make for some pretty interesting sex.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian _only _texts Jim when Jim's got him on late night stake out. It's not out of courtesy of Jim's schedule or anything of that sort, it's just because Sebastian hates to text. And Jim doesn't text him because, well, if you want to talk to Jim Moriarty, you contact him, he will not contact you.

So, anyway, Sebastian's on stake out right now and Jim's at home waiting, which actually is pretty unusual because usually if one's not home, they're both not home. But for now that's not the case.

**To: Jim Moriarty 12:56 AM**

_Hey, what are you doing?_

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:00 AM**

_Watching TV, you?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:02 AM**

_Really?_

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:04 AM**

_Sorry. Not going well?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:08 AM**

_It's going fine, it's just this guy hasn't moved at all. Well, he went to the hotel bar to meet a girl. She was quite the site._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:10 AM**

_Funny. Just shoot him._

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:14 AM**

_I can't. They're in bed._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:16 AM**

_So?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:17 AM**

_So? They're…moving. A lot._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:19 AM**

_Oh. Ooooooh. You didn't say that._

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:22 AM**

_I thought it was implied._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:25 AM**

_Did you watch them have sex?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:27 AM**

_I'm not answering that. What are you watching?_

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:28 AM**

_You did, didn't you?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:33 AM**

_Well, in my defense I couldn't leave my post._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:35 AM**

_You could have looked away._

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:39 AM**

_That's when I texted you._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:43 AM**

_Naughty, Colonel Moran._

**To: Jim Moriary 1:48 AM**

_Hold on. She's leaving._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:51 AM**

_You going to shoot him, now? _

**To: Jim Moriarty 1:53 AM**

_No, I'm going to go find that girl._

**From: Jim Moriarty 1:54 AM**

_Bastard._

**To: Jim Moriarty 2:07 AM**

_Packing up. Hungry?_

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:09 AM**

_Starving._

**To: Jim Moriarty 2:11 AM**

_I'm picking up Chinese._

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:13 AM**

_Double noodles, please. You always eat mine._

**To: Jim Moriarty 2:14 AM**

_Whatever._

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:16 AM**

_Double noodles._

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:17 AM**

_Double noodles, please._

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:21 AM**

_Seb? Sebby? Noodles._

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:23 AM**

_Double noodles or you sleep outside._

**To: Jim Moriarty 2:29 AM**

_Jesus, I got your damn noodles. _

**From: Jim Moriarty 2:31 AM**

_Double?_

**To: Jim Moriarty 2:33 AM**

_Yes. Open the door, will ya? My hands are full. _

__Well, Sebastian ends up eating all the noodles anyway.

He didn't sleep outside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Couple 1**

On a regular day, Greg gets home before Mycroft. Today was no exception. He walks through his front door at 6:32 PM and stretches. Greg always stretches when he steps through his front door. He breaths in and realizes his smells like sweat. He gets to his room and sets out a new set of clothes and sets off to his bathroom.

While he's in the shower, Mycroft arrives. Mycroft can hear the shower running and sees Greg's clean clothes on the bed. He goes to the bed; he strokes his hand over Greg's soft shirt; he goes to the bathroom.

"Hey, I didn't hear you come in," Greg says to Mycroft.

"I just got here," Mycroft splashes water over his face. "How was your day?"

"Fine. Had another lovely encounter with your brother."

"Oh, of course."

"He called me an idiot seventeen times."

Mycroft refrains from saying, 'Then maybe you shouldn't act like an idiot,' like he would to anybody. Instead, he says, "An idiot knows idiots when he sees one." Which, really isn't much better, but Greg knows the point of that comment is that Sherlock's the idiot.

"How was yours?" Greg asks, turning the water off.

"It was fine. Nothing eventful."

"Good." Greg wraps a towel around his waist and goes to the sink, where Mycroft is loosening his tie. Greg runs his fingers through his hair. "I think I need a haircut," he says.

"Don't be absurd. It's fine."

"I think I want to consider dyeing it, what do you think?"

Mycroft stops to stare at Greg, "Are you insane?"

"What?"

Mycroft forcefully runs his fingers through Greg's hair and lightly pulls, "I love the gray."

"Yeah? Well, you're lucky. Your hair's still dark."

Mycroft pulls Greg's head to him and kisses Greg. Greg smiles and pushes the kiss deeper. Their bodies fully meet in a hug as deep as their kiss.

"Mmm," Greg pulls away, "Sorry, I'm getting you all wet."

"That's all right, I'm going to change anyway." Mycroft kisses Greg again.

"Could you wear that black sweater Sherlock gave you for Christmas? It's in the closet."

"Could you not mention my annoying little brother while we're making out?"

"My pleasure."

"I missed you today, you know that?"

"I do, you sent me about fifteen text messages."

"It was ten."

"Big difference."

"Oh, you like it, Detective Inspector."

"Yes, yes I do."

Sometimes small talk comes easy between Greg and Mycroft, sometimes it's not so easy. But today all that needs to be conveyed is the feelings.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock talks a lot. A hell of a lot. We all know that. But the one person that knows that most is Doctor John Watson. He listens a lot. A hell of a lot. And he's good at it. And he loves it. You know why? Because a certain consulting detective can certainly exhaust himself into a coma from talking so damn much.

So John? He just lets Sherlock talk away.

"What did you do today, Sherlock?"

"Well, I had to go across town to a scene with Lestrade and he's ever so idiotic and dull and _so_not you. Take it as a compliment, please," Sherlock took a sip of his tea, "Mycroft wouldn't stop texting him. It was very annoying and distracting because Greg won't set his phone to vibrate, which is much more practical when Mycroft texts him _ten times_in less than one hour-"

"I can't imagine who else does that," John says, but Sherlock ignores him.

"It was a really fun case, actually. A woman killed her husband and actually tried to blame it on the dog. Could you imagine? How absurd. The murder weapon was the side of the coffee table. This was very strategically placed, obviously. The carpet tracks indicated it had been moved that very morning. The bone he tripped on, also strategically placed. Not by the dog."

"Mmmm," John mumbles.

"Then, I had lunch."

"Did you?"

"I had a ham sandwich. I made it myself. Not as good as you make it, of course. You make them very well, John, often I wonder how you do it. You're like magic John, a little man of magic."

"_Little_?"

Sherlock actually pays attention to John this time, "Well, not in some places." Sherlock winks at John. John winks back. "After lunch I went to Bart's to pick up new fingers from Molly."

"You were at Bart's this afternoon? I was at Bart's this afternoon."

"You were?"

"Yes, when were you there?"

"Around two."

"How did I not run into you?"

"I was in and out."

"Oh."

"These fingers, John? Perfect for my next experiment. The man had poor circulation, I was lucky to get them. I can't wait to start my experiments."

"Good."

"What did you do today, John?" Sherlock throws a hand up to stop John, "No, no, allow me. You were late to work, right? No, I didn't work that out, I did the math; you didn't leave me until ten after. You had a salad for lunch; I know that because you have a small smudge on your tie. That and your breath smells like lettuce. I hate that, John. You had a full day, you haven't sat much today. I'm sorry. Not many difficult patients, though, you're not grouchy or sad or angry. Actually, you're quite pleased today, did Sarah hit on you? That does it, she's getting a picture message next week—"

"You wouldn't dare, you awful man."

"I would."

John rolls his eyes, "What else did I do today, my lovely detective?"

"You came home. Was there more?"

"There was."

"What else did you do?"

"Well, I went to the store and bought you something."

"Yes?"

"Guess."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"No! Don't _deduce. Guess._"

"A new scarf?"

"No."

"A bottle of wine?"

"No."

"Socks?"

"Why would I buy you socks and make it a game?"

"I don't know the way your mind works, John. Just tell me."

John goes to the freezer and opens it, revealing an ice cream cake. Sherlock's eyes brighten with joy, he loves chocolate and ice cream and cake, it's all perfect. He goes to John and hugs him tight.

"Oh, you marvelous man." Sherlock kisses John's cheek, then lips.

"You're welcome."

There's no such thing as small talk in 221B, it's all long paragraphs until John finally finds something to shut his consulting detective up.

**Couple 3**

Jim and Sebastian hardly have any down time. It's all clients and work with them. And that's perfectly fine, do you think two men like James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran could act any differently? Well, maybe if they really tried.

They aren't a conventional couple by any means. There's Jim, who of course is our favorite consulting criminal, and there's his boyfriend Sebastian, who doesn't even like to be called, 'boyfriend'. Of course, that's better than what Doctor Watson once called him ('Moriarty's Errand Boy'). Anyway, Jim's boyfriend isn't conventional at all, he kills people for a living for goodness sakes.

So what's to say these two men have small talk like normal human beings? They don't, mind you. The most normal conversation they've had in a while was about poisonous snakes, and that's because Sebastian got so bored one day he watched the animal channel for six hours.

These men like to have conversations about things that interest them, and let's just say it's interesting to _them_.

"No, Jim, the best way to kill a man without your hands is with your skull."

"Your _skull_, Seb? No, no. No. No. What? No."

"Tell me, then. Tell me how to kill a man without your hands?"

"Well, there's this fancy contraption that was built in the 700's by the Chinese. You actually love it so much, it's practically glued to your hand. It's called a firearm, Seb—"

"No! No firearms. No hands, no firearms."

"Water? Drown them."

"In a fight, how would you get someone on the ground and out without your hands, a gun, or water."

"Let me think, I'd probably punch—"

"No hands!"

"Fine! Let's see, I'd kick them down, probably. Then kick their ribs and kidneys."

"So cliché."

"And you? What would you do?"

"Head-butt them."

"_Head-butt_them?"

"Yeah, in the face or chest. Face would definitely get them down for the count, but chest would knock the wind out of them, rendering them light headed."

"Please, your head is not that hard."

"You want me to demonstrate?"

"No, thanks."

"Anyway, after that I'd kick them in each of the areas it really counts: kidney, ribs, anus—"

"You'd put your foot up their ass?"

"No, I'd put them in pain."

"You dirty man."

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure, Seb."

"You're practically asking me to demonstrate the perfect murder."

"I'm not saying anything. You said anus."

Sebastian stands and walks towards the kitchen.

"Speaking of—" Jim begins.

"Nope."

Jim shrugs, "Whatever. You're still wrong. My methods are better."

"I'd probably just use a gun."

"You said no guns!"

"I changed my mind. Why wouldn't I use a gun?"

"Have you ever done that, have you ever head-butted someone to death?"

"I mean, I didn't kill them. I did head-butt someone, though."

Jim smiles as Sebastian leaves the room. _Oh, he's useful. He's really useful,_Jim thinks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Couple 1**

Mycroft is picky. Duh. He's a Holmes. If he's anything like his little brother –which he is—everything has to go his way; dinner is no exclusion. He likes his dinner at an exact time, he likes it exactly the way he wants it, and he likes it on his dining table.

That is, until Greg Lestrade came along.

To put it cliché, Greg turned Mycroft's life upside down.

Especially dinner time.

Now, Mycroft can be less picky. He can be less precise on dinner times, dinner choice, and where dinner is eaten. All thanks to Greg Lestrade.

Greg's not picky.

Greg is very much a manly man that says, "I will eat anything, anytime, anywhere." He likes his dinner anytime he has time to eat it, he likes it the way he feels like it at that moment, and he likes it wherever he is.

That is, until Mycroft Holmes came along.

Now, Greg can be more picky. He can be more precise about dinner times, dinner choice, and where dinner is eaten. All thanks to Mycroft Holmes.

So that brings us to dinner time at the older Holmes' residence, where Greg Lestrade is sitting at the desk looking through menus and Mycroft is in the kitchen looking for something to snack on (he's still not used to eating later than 7 PM when he used to eat at 5).

"Did you eat the last apple this morning?" Mycroft calls to Greg from the refrigerator.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"It's quite all right, my dear. What have you decided?"

"I can't decide."

"Just pick something."

"You pick something."

"I'm fine with whatever you choose."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Mycroft makes his way to the desk and leans over Greg.

"Ok, then…this one," Greg lifts a random Italian restaurant menu. Mycroft makes a face. "Why that face?"

"I'm not making a face."

"You're making a face and you're not pleased."

"Well, no—"

"Then you choose."

"It's ok, Greg. You choose."

"Not if you're going to make faces."

"I'm not choosing, Greg."

"Well, neither am I," Greg crosses his arms, leans back in his chair, and looks at Mycroft. They stare at each other for almost two minutes, until Greg says, "I've got an idea. I'll throw all of the menus across the floor, and whichever lands the furthest we choose. We leave it to fate."

"We leave it to weight of the paper."

"What do you say?"

"That'll make a mess."

"Mycroft, I'll pick them up."

Mycroft eyes Greg, "Fine."

Greg throws the menus. A sandwich shop lands furthest.

"Great. I'll call," says Greg. Mycroft makes a face again. "What?"

"Nothing, just call before I stop you," Greg pulls his mobile from his pocket, then dials, "I choose tomorrow."

"Hi, I'd like to make a take-out order, please," Greg covers the receiver with his hand, "You could've chosen tonight."

Mycroft glares.

Tomorrow, he'll choose a place Greg doesn't like so much. But Greg will eat it anyway, because Greg doesn't mind as long as he's eating dinner with Mycroft.

**Couple 2**

If you think Mycroft Holmes is picky, you had better reevaluate the definition of picky when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock doesn't even eat much and he still manages to control all of the meals. Of course, if it was up to him, they'd eat chocolate ice cream or chocolate cake or chocolate chip cookies for every meal (Sherlock likes sweets).

John will almost always cater to what Sherlock wants to eat. If John's making something _he _wants for dinner, Sherlock will walk in and say something vulgar or stupid (by John's terms), like, "That looks like something I fished out of a spleen of a Bart's patient yesterday. Well, I say 'patient'." Or, "That smells like something I can certainly experiment on." And John gets just angry enough to throw it out and ask Sherlock what he wants to eat.

Another thing is, if Sherlock tries that hard to get John to feed him what_he _wants, John will damn well do it, no questions asked. It's that Sherlock is actually going to _eat_, which pleases John to no end. If his sweetie wants him to throw out a perfectly good chicken breast because his skinny sweetie wants a greasy cheeseburger, well he will watch his sweetie eat that greasy cheeseburger and while he's ashamed to admit it, he'll probably get a little bit turned on while doing so.

They don't really fight over dinner plans. John will always ask, "Sherlock, what do you want for dinner?"

And Sherlock will either fork up a real answer or say, "Not hungry."

And if he says he's not hungry, John will march into the kitchen and start making the both of them dinner, whether Sherlock likes it or not.

And Sherlock will march into the kitchen and, well, see paragraph two.

Either way, they usually both end up happy and well fed in the end, because Sherlock? Well, he's not the only Holmes boy that's changed for his love.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty do not agree often. If Sebastian says apple, Jim says orange. If Sebastian says gun, Jim says knife. If Sebastian says, "The sky is blue." Jim says, "The sky is purple, you moron."

But Sebastian has a system. He's lived alongside Jim for long enough to know that anything they do has to be Jim's idea. Anything. If Sebastian wants to do something, he has to twist it _just so _enough that Jim thinks it's his idea. It's genius really. And Jim hasn't picked up on it, which is even more genius.

Tonight, Sebastian wants pizza for dinner, but he knows Jim will disagree. Sebastian doesn't say he wants pizza, he tells Jim to choose. Jim pulls out the menus and looks through them.

"I don't really feel like anything in this pile," Jim says, flopping down on the couch opposite Sebastian.

"No?" Sebastian asks, not taking his eyes off the magazine he's reading.

"No. Nothing interesting. Dull. We need new menus."

"Mmmm."

"Are you even listening?"

"Of course."

"How about cheeseburgers?"

"If you want."

"No, I don't," Jim throws that menu across the coffee table, "How about Italian?"

"Sure."

"No, that won't due," Jim sends that menu sailing, "Chinese?"

"Yep."

"Nah."

This exchange goes on for twelve more menus. Sebastian knows pizza is at the bottom of the pile, he also knows Jim won't go through the pile again after he's thrown them through the room. He also knows that if he agrees, Jim will disagree –of course. Which means one thing:

"Pizza?" Jim asks.

"Eh, I don't really feel like it."

"Really? I do."

"Not really in the mood."

Jim looks at Sebastian, "Well, I don't care what you want. I'm calling for a pizza."

"Fine. I won't eat."

"Fine, don't. More for me," Jim picks up his phone and places the order.

When the pizza arrives, Sebastian pays the delivery boy and takes it to the kitchen, smiling the whole time.

"What are you smiling about?" Jim asks.

"Oh, nothing," Sebastian take a piece of pizza to the living room and sits on the couch.

"I thought you didn't want pizza."

"Changed my mind," Sebastian says, taking a bite.

Jim glares at him, confused for a minute, then he shrugs and takes the pizza to the living room. He sits on the couch next to Sebastian. As Sebastian lifts his arm to take a bite, Jim elbows him in the elbow. Sebastian laughs and elbows Jim back. They nudge each other, laugh, then go back to their pizza.

And all dinner related is well in the Moriarty-Moran household.


	6. Chapter 6

**Couple 1**

All couples have their own in-bed traditions, right? Some couples like to eat breakfast in bed; some couples like to watch TV in bed; some people like to snuggle and cuddle in bed. Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade like to work in bed. It's an interesting tradition they have, don't you think? It's not that abnormal, not to them. It's very, very normal to them. And they like it. It's actually one of their most intimate moments, because not many people know what goes on in Mycroft's office walls and not many people know all the cases that come into NSY.

They like to sit in their bed –let's pause. They say 'our bed' in whoever's bed their in. They don't live together, they split their time between the two homes, but no matter where they are it's 'our bed'. So, anyway, they sit in their bed. Usually in their underwear. Because beds aren't for clothes, how Mycroft thinks, even though he's the one that will wear a shirt to bed. Greg's shirt, but a shirt nonetheless.

Greg has a stack of cases sitting in front of him that he's taking a look at before he sends them to Sherlock. Usually he can reduce the stack 2/3 before he sends them that way, but of course Sherlock never knows that. In Sherlock's mind, Greg can't do anything and can't solve his own cases. But Mycroft sees, and that's all Greg cares about.

Mycroft has a stack of new plans for, "Oh, I can't tell you, love." He takes a phone call that lasts five minutes and all Greg can hear is, "No. – Yes. – I don't- - Look, if you can't, then I'll have to call- - Fine, no. – Call me if anything comes up." He hangs up and smiles at Greg.

"How's it coming?" Mycroft asks.

"It's fine," Greg says. But five minutes later he shouts in frustration and violently scratches his head.

"Maybe you should leave it for—"

"Don't. Do not. Do not even mention anyone with the initials 'S.H.' right now. Do not mention anyone that's dating a certain army doctor and likes to make my life and yours their own living hells."

"At least we're together." Mycroft smiles at Greg.

Ten minutes later, Greg says, "Maybe I will save this for him."

"For who?" Greg looks at Mycroft. "Oh, sorry."

Greg sighs. "What time is it?"

Mycroft looks at his watch, "10:37 PM."

"Are you tired?"

"Kind of."

Greg picks up his stack and takes them over to the desk. He goes back to the bed and flops down stomach first on his side. "I'm just going to sleep."

"Ok. Goodnight."

"Aren't you going to?"

"Not yet. I need to finish this and I'll be asleep."

Greg mumbles something and digs his face into Mycroft's thigh. Mycroft looks down and smiles, then rests his right hand on Greg's head. He continues working while Greg snores against his leg, and once he's finished, well, he and Mycroft snuggle and cuddle in their bed.

**Couple 2**

If it was up to John Watson, he and Sherlock Holmes would never leave their bed. It's not always about the sex (ok, yes it is), but it's also about being close and sharing. It's about being near each other. That's what John likes. He likes to be where Sherlock is, he likes Sherlock to be where he is.

And their bed is always warm. John has an abnormally high body temperature anyway, but with two grown men under the covers it's like a comfortable sauna. John loves it that way.

But tonight it's not about the sex. John is occupying ¼ of the bed, Sherlock is taking up ¼ of the bed, and Sherlock's case files and papers and evidence is taking up ½ of the bed. John doesn't mind, except his legs are cramping up. But he's not going to say anything to Sherlock, because Sherlock won't hear him. Because Sherlock is rambling on about what's going on his mind. If he thinks it, he says it.

"Blue."

"Mmm?"

"Paperweight, easy."

"Oh?"

"Knife, why did Lestrade even send this one for me?"

"Dunno."

"Ice pick? That's new."

"Wow."

"Pineapple."

"What now?"

"Pineapple."

"What about a pineapple?"

"Allergy."

"Pineapple allergy?"

"Pineapple."

John looks at Sherlock and sighs because he realizes Sherlock's just saying words to make John feel better. John goes back to his book.

I didn't mention that John wears glasses. Not always, just sometimes when he's reading. Like right now.

Sherlock claims he has 20/20 vision. He claims that he can see everything right in front of him with no blurs, no haziness, just clear, perfect vision.

But that is not the case. And John knows that is not the case. And John knows that Sherlock's just getting older and his eyes are changing just like the rest of him. But Sherlock does not like to know that. He doesn't want to think that he has flaws or that he's aging or that there's something not perfect about him. But his vision is changing and he can't stop it.

Sherlock squints at the paper in front of him six times. He shuts his eyes and lets them regain moisture. He rubs them twice to relieve the itch that might be there. Finally, without thinking, he reaches over to John's face and takes his glasses. John doesn't move a muscle. This isn't the first time he's done it, Sherlock steals John's glasses almost every time they're reading anything in bed.

"Ah-ha!"

"Hmm?"

"Guitar!"

John looks at Sherlock, "Someone killed someone with a guitar?"

"No! That word is guitar!"

John begins to laugh. He begins to laugh so hard he can't control it. He presses his face against Sherlock's shoulder and shakes Sherlock with his laughs.

"What is it?"

"You need to get your eyes checked, my love."

"Why?"

"You need glasses."

"Why, I have yours?" Sherlock gives John his glasses back.

"You just need glasses, Sherlock. You're getting older and—"

"You're older."

"Yes, but I _know _I'm older."

Sherlock takes John's glasses back, "What?"

John chuckles himself out of bed to get a cup of tea. When he returns Sherlock's picking up every case folder looking for something.

"What are you looking for?"

"Glasses."

"They're on your head, sweetie."

Sherlock looks up and feels his head, "Oh, thanks."

John smiles and gets back in bed. Sherlock does not get his eyes checked, he does not stop stealing John's glasses. But John actually likes it, because it's just another thing that him and Sherlock share.

**Couple 3**

What people don't know is Jim and Sebastian are actually quite boring. That is, if they're not on a crime spree. Sometimes they're so swamped they don't sleep for days, that's why when they're home, they like to be in bed. Well, Sebastian does. Sebastian likes to relax. Jim gets bored, so he likes to talk.

Sebastian has gotten used to the fact that Jim talks. He doesn't even hear Jim anymore, to be honest. Unless it's important, unless it has to do with guns or killing people. Sometimes he listens when Jim talks about buying new suits because even Sebastian can't look away from himself in a new Westwood.

Sebastian's currently laying face down on their highly cushioned bed trying to drown out Jim's voice and the voice of the morning news.

"_Car bombing in_…"

"Hey, that was us," Jim says, tapping Sebastian's shoulder.

"_Man found dead in_…"

"Hey, that was you,"

"_Missing persons report for…_"

"Hey, that—"

"I know!" Sebastian mumbles into his pillow.

"Calm down, I'm just proud of our extracurricular activities."

"I'm proud, too, but it's 7:46 AM and I'm trying to sleep."

"It's 6:46."

"Even better," Sebastian turns his back to Jim and begins to doze again.

Jim looks down at Sebastian and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Don't touch me," Sebastian mumbles.

"That's rude."

"I'm trying to sleep."

Ten minutes later, Sebastian is a drooling, snoring heap next to Jim. Jim turns the volume up on the TV to drown out Sebastian's noises.

"Turn it down!" Sebastian shouts at his pillow.

"Ssshh, you're trying to sleep,"

Ten minutes later, the news ends and Jim turns the TV off. He glances at Sebastian and decides he's bored. "Seb, wake up."

"No."

"Please? I'm bored."

"I haven't slept, you haven't let me sleep in four days. You're lucky I'm not dead. Now, either go away or go back to sleep."

"I'm wide awake."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just awake and I want to be awake with you."

"Romantic."

"Come on, Seb. We've got a day of nothing. Get up. We can go have breakfast."

"You? Let me eat a regular meal? What have you done with James Moriarty?"

"You act like I think you're my pet."

"I'm not?"

Jim bites the back of Sebastian's neck.

"Ouch!" Sebastian jumps in bed, turning over to face Jim. "Go away," he says.

"Come on, please."

"No."

"I'll buy you a new suit."

"No new suit makes me want to get out of this bed."

Jim slithers down the bed to lie next to Sebastian. He pats his shoulder, then lightly runs his fingertips in random designs on Sebastian's arm, making goosebumps raise on Sebastian's tan skin. "Seb," he whispers. He rubs his nose against Sebastian's. "Please wake up."

"No. Go away. Get out of my face. Stop touching me," Sebastian opens his eyes and looks at Jim. Jim looks genuine, a look he doesn't often have. Sebastian likes when Jim looks this way, with his hair sleep disheveled and his eyes soft from committing no crimes yet today. "Please, Jim. I haven't slept in a long time. I'm exhausted." Sebastian swiftly kisses Jim.

"Fine. Go to sleep, then," Jim kisses Sebastian again, for longer this time. He pulls Sebastian's arms until Sebastian is on top of him.

"This isn't letting me sleep," Sebastian lies on Jim's chest.

Jim chuckles and runs lines over Sebastian's back, "You know our jobs are demanding. People always want people hurt, or killed, or horribly crucified. I like when you shoot them, though. Doesn't it make you feel important; doesn't it make you feel needed? It makes me feel needed, in a weird way. In a bad way, some would say. I can't believe people don't like crime, Seb. We…we _help _people. We help them to be happy when they can't be happy on their own. Cowardly, sure, they're cowards, all of 'em. But we're not. You and I, we are brave. We are reliable. We are…well, we're special, right, Seb? That's what you always say," Jim pauses for Sebastian's reply. When there is one, he nudges Sebastian and pats his pack, "Seb?" This time, he gets light snores in reply. He tries to roll out from under Sebastian, but Sebastian tightens his grip around Jim's chest.

See, they can be normal, right? If normal means Sebastian intentionally falling asleep on Jim's chest in a strategic position so Jim's air supply is diminishing and Jim will stop talking. Yeah, normal? I think so.

*_This took me hours to write, I had writer's block of this particular story. But the ideas are still flowing, I have a few more scenarios to go through. If anyone has a scenario they'd like to know about, let me know? Somehow? Yeah. Please. I like writing these, it's fun. _

_*I didn't ship Mystrade until like a few days ago, that's why their scenarios might not be as good as the others. MorMor might be my favorite ship at this point._

_*Sorry. Rambling. Review. Favorite. Alert. I don't care, the notifications keep me inspired. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Couple 1**

When Greg Lestrade met Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft was a man that didn't do much on his own. He was just so busy; he liked to occupy himself with work at all times of the day, no matter what day. He had a housekeeper; naturally; drivers, well he still has those; and a personal shopper. The one that shocked Greg the most was the shopper.

"You don't even shop for yourself?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"It's just, shopping is usually a very personal thing. What if you needed to buy condoms and Viagra? Wouldn't you be embarrassed?"

"No, why should I be?"

"Those are very personal things."

"Well, I don't buy them. So it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, but-"

"I don't see what the problem is."

"You're just so _unhuman. _You don't shop for yourself, Mycroft. That's not normal."

But now, seven months, three weeks, six days, and eighteen hours later, Mycroft and Greg are both at the grocery store. Mycroft is making disgusted faces and Greg is whistling down an isle.

"Why are we here?" Mycroft asks.

"We need food. Well, I need food. My refrigerator is empty."

"Then why am _I _here?"

Greg stops and looks at Greg, "Because I like us to do things together. I like when we're normal together. And it's Sunday, we had nothing better to do."

"Yeah, but-"

"Mycroft, please."

Mycroft sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, "Ok, proceed."

Greg resumes strutting down the isle, whistling a tune Mycroft only hears from Greg's mouth. It's like the only beat Greg knows, and it's permanently engraved in Mycroft's mind. Sometimes he wakes up with that song in his ears, even if Greg's still asleep or not there, and he's positive that tune will be their wedding song.

"Do you like Oreos?"

Mycroft wiggles his head out of his imagination of their wedding, "Sorry, what?"

"Oreos, do you like them?"

"I…guess."

"You guess? Either you like 'em or you don't. Which is it?"

"I," Mycroft shook his head, "Yeah, sure."

"You've never had an Oreo have you?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"You're kidding."

"Sherlock couldn't have sweets as a child, they made him hyper. We never had them in the house."

"Sweets make Sherlock hyper, you don't say?" Greg chuckles, "Well, here. Have one." Greg opens the bag of Oreos and hands one to Mycroft.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft is hesitant in taking the Oreo. He looks around for store employees. "You can't open it, we'll get in trouble."

"No, we won't. I'm a cop," Greg takes a bite of his Oreo, "Besides, I'll pay for it."

Mycroft takes his Oreo and bites into it. At first he doesn't see what the big deal is, it's dry and annoying to chew. But finally it gets soft and he can taste the cream, and he's delighted. He momentarily curses Sherlock for being such an annoying child to cause them to never have tasted these in the past.

"Well?"

"They're delightful."

"See?"

"You were right."

"And you haven't even eaten one the good way."

"How's the good way?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

Greg pushes their basket towards the dairy isle. He opens one of the doors and takes out a small carton of milk, one that folds on the top. He unfolds each side so it's like a cup. "Here, hold this." He hands it to Mycroft and fishes for an Oreo. He pulls the Oreo apart, licks the cream on the inside, pushes the cookie parts back together, dips it in milk, and eats it. He gives Mycroft a satisfied smile and lifts his eyebrows, "Your turn."

Mycroft is very hesitant. He looks around for employees, again, and hands the milk to Greg. He repeats Greg's actions, then smiles. "Mmmm, delicious."

"Are you just saying that?"

"No, no. It's honestly quite good," Mycroft takes another Oreo and repeats the process.

"You want to try them another way?"

"There are more ways to eat Oreos?"

"Oh, baby, have I got a whole world to open up for you."

They go to the non-refrigerated isle of foods. Greg takes a jar of peanut butter off the shelf and opens it.

"Peanut butter?"

"Of course." Greg dips an entire Oreo in the jar, then eats it. "Go on."

Mycroft takes after Greg and half-smiles.

"No?" Greg asks.

"I'm not very fond of peanut butter."

"Understandable." Greg places the jar in the cart and takes a jar of Nutella off the shelf. "Now this, this is good."

"What is this?"

"You've never tried Nutella?"

"No."

"It's like chocolate. Just try it, it's delicious."

Mycroft tries it. He likes it more than the peanut butter. "This one's actually good."

"It's delicious."

"What's next?"

Greg thinks for a minute, "How about some," he takes strawberry cake frosting off a shelf, "Cake frosting?"

Mycroft's eyes grow wide, "You're trying to kill me with sugar."

"Only slightly." Greg opens the can and holds it out for Mycroft.

Mycroft takes it and dips his Oreo in it. He takes a bite, then holds it out for Greg, "Your turn."

"Don't mind if I do."

"What else can we eat Oreos with?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Of course. I'm learning, I'm with you, I'm eating good food—"

A young employee approaches them and looks scared, "Uhm, sir, and sir," he looks at their jars and cans and milk carton and Oreos open in the basket, "You can't really…do that."

"Oh, sorry," Greg closes the jars and cans, "My boyfriend has just never eaten Oreos before."

"I'm sorry," the employee doesn't really know what to do next, he was told to make them leave, "If you don't mind, could you continue this out of the store?"

"Sorry, sorry," Mycroft says, "We'll be leaving, then."

Greg turns the cart to leave the isle. Once out of site of the young employee, Greg turns the cart back to the frozen foods section. "We've got to get some ice cream."

"For what?"

"For the Oreos, of course."

Mycroft smiles at Greg as they make their way to the ice cream. Well, let's just say Greg won't really have any more problems getting Mycroft to the store; all he has to do is figure out what foods Mycroft's never tried.

**Couple 2**

Usually John does the shopping alone. And he does mind. A lot.

He gets annoyed at Sherlock's lists.

"Sherlock, I can't read this."

"That says, 'banana'."

"In what written language does that say, 'banana'? That looks like a 'q'."

"That's a 'b'!"

He gets annoyed with Sherlock eating the food he buys for himself.

"Sherlock, what happened to the blueberries?"

"I ate them."

"They were mine."

"I didn't know I couldn't eat what's in _our_ fridge."

"_I_ bought them for _me_."

"Buy me some next time."

"Buy some yourself!"

He gets annoyed when Sherlock won't go to the store for him. Or even

with him. But sometimes, very, very rarely, he gets Sherlock to go with him.

"Why are we here?"

"We need groceries.

"What for?"

"To eat."

"Boring."

"For _me_ to eat."

"Then why am _I_ here?"

"So that next time you eat my damn blueberries, I can at least say, 'You know, you were there when we bought them, so go ahead, eat them.' And I won't get extremely angry with you."

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because you don't do it yourself and you take advantage of me doing it for you."

"Yeah, but—"

"Sherlock, please." John looks at him sternly. Sherlock can't help but nod and follow John. "So, can you think of anything we need?"

"Blueberries." Sherlock tries not to laugh at his own joke.

John glares, "Shut up." He pushes the cart away from Sherlock.

They stroll through the grocery store in a comfortable silence. Every few minutes, John stops and asks if Sherlock wants a specific item. Sherlock doesn't respond or just grunts in response, so John decides and either places it in the basket or puts it back on the shelf.

Then, John thinks it's an ok idea to take Sherlock down the sweets isle. Why he did it, he will never know, but Sherlock's inner five-year-old decides to make an appearance.

First, Sherlock waits until John's back is turned before he places a bag of chocolate chip cookies in the basket. John turns back, sees Sherlock acting suspicious, studies the basket, and puts the cookies back.

Next, Sherlock pauses behind John and takes a bag of Oreos off the shelf. He holds it behind his back as he slyly steps over the basket. He drops them in without John noticing –that is, until John sets something next to the Oreos. He glares at Sherlock and takes the Oreos back.

Next, he goes to the shelf of sweets and takes down a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. Before John can stop him, Sherlock rips the bag open and starts eating.

"Now we have to buy them."

John rolls his eyes and huffs at Sherlock, then goes about his shopping.

Next, Sherlock not-so-discretely takes five bags of sugar cookies off the shelf and drops them very loudly into the basket. John looks at them and silently instructs Sherlock to put them back.

"Please, John? I won't ask for anything else, I promise."

"Of course not, because after this isle we've got the frozen vegetable isle, and there's no way you're going to ask for any veggies."

"Well, then, I don't see the problem—"

"You don't need this junk, Sherlock."

"I do, though, I really do!"

"Why do I even bother?" John asks himself, rubbing his face in frustration.

"Because you love me, John. And I love you. And that's why you should buy me snacks."

John eyes Sherlock. If Sherlock didn't look so adorable at this moment and so _wanting, _he'd have said no. Instead he nods and says, "One."

"Three."

"One big package and one small package."

"Four."

"Two."

"Done."

John's mistake is agreeing, because Sherlock takes the next fifteen minutes to choose two packages of sweets. When Sherlock finally places two packages in the basket, John says, "Ok, let's go."

"Wait, wait, no, I change my mind!"

"No, no changing your mind. It's been fifteen minutes, decisions are final."

Sherlock pouts.

"You're lucky I even let you get two."

Sherlock sulks.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock gives John the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can produce.

"Fine, ok? Fine, one more. But you have to eat dinner every night for the next three weeks."

Sherlock glares at John. "I don't know if it's worth it or not."

"Your choice." John turns away from him and begins making his way out of the isle.

"Fine. I choose the sweets."

"And dinner."

"Yes, fine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You're choosing to eat dinner for three weeks just so you can have a bag of chocolate covered raisins?"

"Yes."

"You are a child."

"I am a happy child. All thanks to you, my small love."

"_Small_?"

Sherlock smiles and kisses John's forehead. "Let's go, I've got dinner to eat."

And for the next three weeks, John made Sherlock eat the most healthy meals he could make.

**Couple 3**

They don't grocery shop. Jim and Sebastian? Consulting criminal and professional sniper? The most dangerous man in the world and his secret weapon? Of course not, could either of them be caught dead at a grocery story? No, why would they? How dare you think that.

However, shopping they do.

Nice shopping.

Fun shopping.

Expensive shopping.

Suit shipping.

Jim loves shopping if it's for a new suit, and he's got a lot of suits. Which means he shops a lot.

When Jim met Sebastian, Sebastian was wearing a pair of unintentionally ripped jeans and a plain white v-neck. He was smoking the last of his cigarettes; it was a little stub he had left from his last smoke break. His hair was dirty, his face had stubble, and his fingertips had black smudges on them.

The night Jim hired Sebastian, he put the marksman up in an expensive hotel. The next day, he bought Sebastian a new suit, his first suit.

"I don't need a damn suit," Sebastian had said, "I don't know the first thing about fittings and sizes and ties."

"Don't worry about it, Sebastian. It's a process."

But here they are, one year, eight months, two weeks, four days, and three hours later at Jim's tailor being fitted for brand new suits.

"A little lower on the cuff, please." Sebastian says, pulling the jacket off.

"That one looks very nice."

"I like the blue, it's a good color. But do you think I should try the gray?"

"You have about sixteen gray suits, Seb."

"And? You have a lot of blue."

"Too bad we don't wear the same size. Our lives could be easier."

"As if you'd share your suits."

"Yeah, you're right."

"What do you think of this vest?"

"It's nice."

"That wasn't convincing."

"It's…no, I don't like it in blue."

Sebastian peals the vest off. "What about in the gray?"

"You'd have to try it on."

Sebastian pulls on the gray vest.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Alright." Sebastian says, taking it off. He takes the jacket back from the tailor, pulls it on, and examines the sleeves. "Yeah, perfect. Oh, could you make the inside pocket bigger than it usually would be? Like the last one."

"Of course, Mister Moran."

"Thanks so much."

"Do you like suits, Seb?" Jim asks.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"It's just all very different from those disgusting jeans you used to wear; that you still have, by the way."

"I know it's different, but it's a good different. Because now I have money, which means I can buy suits whenever I want," Sebastian was still examining himself in the three-sided mirror, "And besides, I look damn good."

"That is true."

"What if I got a full body coat?"

"I don't think if would fit you."

"Yeah, maybe not."

"Could you stop checking yourself out?"

"Sorry, I'm just distracting."

"Tell me about it."

"We've got to send our suits from yesterday to the dry-cleaners."

"I'm not sure they'll be able to get that much blood out, Seb."

Sebastian pauses and looks at Jim, "That was my favorite suit."

"Which is why I'm getting you a new one today."

"Did you feel guilty?"

"No."

"You did, didn't you? You felt bad for making me ruin my favorite suit."

"Did not."

"Oh Jim, how sweet."

"I won't make a habit of it, I promise."

"I wouldn't expect anything different," Sebastian smiles at Jim.

So, of course shopping in the Moriarty-Moran residence isn't going to be conventional, because really, when is anything about them conventional?


	8. Chapter 8

**Couple 1**

It was Greg's idea. Greg asked. It was all him. Do not make it sound like it was Mycroft's idea, because let him tell you, it was not. He doesn't like this one bit. He doesn't think it's fun, he doesn't think it's entertaining, and quite frankly he'd rather be at home.

Greg will claim it was his idea, because he thinks it is a good idea. Being out of the house with other people is a good idea, sometimes, he claimed. It's good for them to mingle. And, honestly, Greg was tired of the same old thing. Something comes along for them to do? He takes it.

What they're doing right now is standing in a large ballroom in a hotel near Mycroft's house 'enjoying' the company of the rest of NSY at the New Year's Party. Greg asked, like I said. He got the invitation in his mailbox two weeks ago and asked. Mycroft said no. At first. Finally, Greg was just so persuasive that he agreed.

"Why is Sherlock here?" Mycroft hisses at Greg as they walk in fifteen minutes after Sherlock.

"Well, he was invited, I guess."

"_Why_?" Mycroft hisses louder.

"He's part of…you know what, just avoid him. Ok? Can you do that? For me? Because I'm bored, Mycroft. I like to _do _things. I like to _go _places. And we don't do anything or go anywhere. And I. Am. Bored."

While Greg is going on, Mycroft looks down and stares at his shoes. "I guess I can manage to avoid Sherlock," he mumbles, "Why didn't you tell me you're _bored_?"

"Because I don't want you to go away, and I was afraid that," Greg shifts uncomfortably before going on, "I was afraid that you'd think I'm unhappy."

"Are you?"

"Of course not," Greg lifts Mycroft's chin and discretely kisses his cheek, "This will be fun, I promise."

"You'd better be right, Lestrade."

Mycroft lasted seventeen minutes before Sherlock finally caught him.

"How did Greg manage to convince you to come?" Sherlock asks before Mycroft's even turned around.

Mycroft scowls, rolls his eyes, and turns around. "He didn't have to _convince _me-"

"Right. Did he say there'd be a lot of food?"

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock. I've lost eight pounds since you last made that joke. Where's Doctor Watson? Couldn't convince him, could you?"

"Wrong, I didn't invite him," Sherlock answers right before sipping his drink. Before Mycroft could wonder out loud where John is, Sherlock answers, "I knew he wouldn't want to come, so I left him home."

Mycroft mumbled under his breath that he wished Greg would have left him home, and just then Greg came and tugs on Mycroft's elbow. "There you are, I'd wondered where you'd gotten to." Greg has a beer in his hand; Mycroft hates the smell of beer. Greg politely shakes Sherlock's hand then tugs at Mycroft again, "Come on, got some people you should meet."

"Good evening, Sherlock." Mycroft happily says and follows Greg.

They get across the ballroom before Mycroft asks who they're going to meet. "Nobody, I just knew you needed to be rescued."

Mycroft laughs, "How thoughtful. Can we go home now?"

"We've only been here twenty minutes."

"I know, and I'm ready to leave."

"Not yet, ok? Just a little bit longer here, then I've got a surprise for you."

"Fine," Mycroft eyes Greg, "What surprise?"

"You'll see." Greg slyly smiles at Mycroft.

An hour and a half later, Mycroft becomes very impressed at his partner's ability to drink but not be drunk, the impressiveness increasing when they manage to dance and not fumble all over one another.

"You're quite the dancer, Greg Lestrade."

"Being led is a lot more difficult than it looks, you know that?"

"We can switch next song."

"Agreed." Greg glances at his watch.

"What? Bored with me?"

"Of course not."

"What are you looking for, then?"

"It's 11:02. I was just wondering if you're going to kiss me at midnight."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would I _at midnight_? Why can't I right now, or after, or—"

Greg begins to chuckle, shutting Mycroft up. "You kiss someone at midnight on New Year's. It's like…luck. It's romantic."

"Do you want me to kiss you at midnight?"

"No, I want that poor bloke over there to kiss me," Greg says sarcastically. Mycroft chuckles softly. "Yes, of course I want _you _to kiss me."

Mycroft pulls at Greg's hips, making them mash together tighter. "I might. Now, what's my surprise? I don't like surprises, Greg."

"Hmmm," Greg thinks a minute, "I guess you can have it. It's in my back pocket," he gives Mycroft a wink.

Mycroft sighs as he dips his fingers into Greg's back pocket, feeling a wallet and a plastic card. He pulls the card out to find it's a room key. "You got us a room here?"

"I sure did."

Mycroft smiles and kisses Greg. "Does this mean we can leave now?"

"Oh, alright."

The next fifty minutes are a mess of blurry things, but at midnight Mycroft is hovering over Greg and kisses him. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year. This date wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, I guess not."

Greg smiles as he folds his hands behind his head and lets Mycroft snuggle up next to him.

**Couple 2**

It might surprise people to learn that both Sherlock and John love dates. With each other, of course. Sherlock likes them because they are so not boring, and on good nights it'll end with them getting called to a crime scene. John likes them because he likes Sherlock's company, and on good nights it'll end with them getting naked in bed.

So, yeah, maybe their idea of a date is different, but all the same, they like them. Their favorite date spot is Angelo's because John so is Sherlock's date now and they like to thank Angelo for first to call him so. It's the nostalgia (and the free food).

Tonight they're at Angelo's, Billy is eyeing John like he always does, and Sherlock is staring out the window like he always does (but actually he's staring at Billy's reflection as Billy is staring at John).

"Stop it, Sherlock." John says, catching John snarl at Billy's reflection.

"I used to like him, John. When it was just me it was fine. No lurking. No leering. No lip licking. But now…" Sherlock trails off as Billy begins to make his way to their table with fresh glasses of wine.

"Be nice, please." John manages to spill out before Billy is _right there_.

"Anything else for you, gents?" Billy asks as Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"No thanks, Billy. We're good." John says, tipping his glass at Billy.

Once he's gone Sherlock huffs and resumes staring at Billy's reflection.

"I don't know why you get so worked up," John says, "It's not like people never stare at you; crime scenes, the store, walking down the street—"

"Yes, John. But not while we're _on a date_."

"This is the only time he sees me." John says, smiling at Sherlock and sipping his wine.

"Not funny."

"It's funny to me. I never get the attention, it's always you—"

Sherlock stops staring at Billy and stares at John with a hurt look on his face. "I don't give you attention?"

John reaches across the table and grasps Sherlock's hand, "That's not what I meant."

Sherlock takes a drink from his glass and looks out the window again. Right at that moment, four police cars speed past with their lights flashing. Sherlock sat up straighter, and John could swear his ears perked.

"Wait, not yet." John says, holding Sherlock's arm in place before he could stand.

"But—"

"We are on a date. If they _need _you, they will call, we will go, you will solve it, and our date night will be over. But for now, please, can we resume our night until they call?"

Sherlock nods, slides down his chair, and sulks.

"Stop it." John says.

"I can't help it."

"You act like our date is such a chore."

"It is when there's a perfectly good murder to solve," Sherlock mumbles.

"How do you know it's murder?"

"It's Tuesday."

John looks confused, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"There was a murder last month on the second Tuesday. And the month before."

"And…that's not a coincidence?" John asks.

Sherlock lets out a laugh, "Of course not."

"Right," John looks down then back at Sherlock, "And how long have you known they've been linked?"

"About a week and a half now."

"Right," John sighs, "And why haven't you told Lestrade?"

"He's an idiot."

"Right."

Finally, Sherlock's phone rang. He jumped at the noise, then fished into his jacket pocket and answered, "Holmes." John could only hear one side of the conversation, "Right. – Text me the address. – We'll be right there." John takes the last swig of his and Sherlock's wine and follows Sherlock out the door.

They catch a cab and get to the scene twenty minutes later. It's in an abandoned parking lot and there are crew members everywhere.

Lestrade catches Sherlock as he ducks under the tape. "Male, late twenties, no wounds, no weapon, nothing."

"Oh, there's never nothing." Sherlock says, smiling as he examines the body.

Over the next hour, Sherlock figures out that he was strangled to death with a blunt object being pushed down his wind pipe.

"Brilliant." Sherlock whispers to himself as he pulls his gloves off.

"Brilliant?" John asks.

"Clever."

"Clever?"

"Please keep up."

"It's not brilliant or clever, Sherlock."

"It's brilliant that we have a murder to solve and I'm clever, so yes it is."

"Murder?" Lestrade asks."

"Yes. And the murder from last month is linked. And the one from the month before."

"Please be more specific."

"The one's from the second Tuesday's. They are linked, I just don't know how. At least I have time, the murderer won't move for a month."

"Yes, how fortunate," Anderson adds from the back.

Once all their doing is going over things one again, Sally stops and looks at John, "John," she says, looking John up and down, "Don't you look dashing."

Everyone present stares at John. "Thanks." He uncomfortably says.

"Was there a special occasion?"

"No, just—"

"We were on a date." Sherlock interjects.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know." Lestrade tries to apologize to John.

"It's quite alright, this is much more interesting." Sherlock says, still looking the body over.

"Gee, thanks, Sherlock." John says.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"So, are you two going to resume your date, now?" Lestrade asked.

"Why?" Sherlock asks.

"Probably not." John says.

"Great, let's get this going."

Sherlock goes to John, he's momentarily slipping back into boyfriend mode, "Listen, John, this has been great, but—"

"I know, I know," John says, kissing Sherlock quickly, "We'll do it again sometime. Go back your wife, Work." Sherlock smiles wide and follows Lestrade to a car.

The night ended up being the perfect date. Well, for one of them.

**Couple 3**

It might surprise you, this time, to learn that it's Jim that likes taking Sebastian out. He likes to show Sebastian off. Why wouldn't he? Sebastian is hot and sexy and dark and mysterious and Jim likes that he's beat everyone in that department. Jim likes to take Sebastian to a bar or restaurant on business, leave him alone for a while, and return to find Sebastian engaged in conversation with a young woman (or man, on a few occasions).

He likes to pull Sebastian away and he likes to hear Sebastian bitch and whine because that person was hot or actually interesting and, more importantly, interested in him. Jim likes very much to feel that he's won, even if he did just beat a 22-year-old girl that barely had a chance. Because he likes to know that, like a certain consulting detective to a certain army doctor, he can provide Sebastian with four things nobody else ever can: love (sometimes), sex (often), danger (oh, always), and money (yes, please and a new suit on top).

Tonight, they're on an actual date in a restaurant that might be the most expensive in London and also the one with the longest waiting list (Jim knew a guy). They're seated towards the back of the restaurant almost tucked into a deep corner. Jim likes to be able to keep an eye on the whole restaurant, and it seems like the whole restaurant likes to keep an eye on them.

They're being respectful. They're both dressed in very nice, very expensive Armani and Versace suits. They're both well groomed and don't look like their menacing selves at all, so why is everyone staring?

Well, Sebastian has an idea. And this idea is causing him to sit with his face being covered with his hand and his leg shaking in anger.

"Why are they staring?" He hisses as Jim thanks the waiter.

"Who?"

Sebastian motions his eyes around the room.

"Oh, them. Don't pay attention to them."

"It's a bit difficult to."

"Maybe they think you look strange with your face in your hand."

"I doubt it."

"Well, stop."

"I can't _stop, _James. I'm fighting the urge to _shoot _someone."

"Do it, I don't care."

Sebastian glares at Jim.

"Fine, don't." Jim sips from his glass.

"Do you need a drink?" Jim raises his hand to call a waiter.

"No, I'll get it." Sebastian forcefully stands and tosses his napkin on the table. One could think it looks like he just broke up with Jim, but the two present know that's not the case, even though one momentarily wishes it were as he makes his way to the bar and spots a young blond girl with bronze skin. He smiles and purposefully makes his post two people lengths away from her. He glances around, figuring out that Jim can't see him from here. He smiles. He orders, "Rum and coke."

The girl glances at him while he's looking around. "Looking for someone?" She asks.

"What? Oh, no, just observing." He smiles at her. The barkeeper places his drink in front of him. "Can I get a refill on…" Sebastian looks at her.

"Kelly."

"Kelly's drink."

The barkeep nods and makes his way back.

"You didn't have to do that," Kelly says, very giggly and smiley.

"It's my pleasure, trust me." He closes the space between them. "Sebastian Moran," he says, sticking his hand out. She takes it. "How are you this evening, Kelly?"

"I'm great, how about you?"

"My night just got a whole lot better, let me tell you." The barkeep brings her drink. She thanks him and Sebastian. "What brings you here? Pretty girl like you shouldn't be hangin' around these parts of town alone."

"I'm just waiting for a friend of mine."

"A friend?"

"A girlfriend from college."

"Ahh," he lights a cigarette and offers her one. She takes it, places it between her lips, lets him light it, and he smiles. "What do you do, Kelly?"

"I'm a photographer."

"Oh, really? That sounds interesting. What do you photograph?"

She eyes him up and down, "People."

"Oh, right," he smiles. "Where do you work, Kelly?"

"Vogue New York."

"You're a bit a ways away from the office."

She laughs, "I'm here visiting my mum."

"Pleasant," he takes a drag of his cigarette, "How long are you here for, Kelly?"

"I leave tomorrow," she smiles wide.

He lifts an eyebrow and leans in to her, "We had better use our time wisely, then. What do you say?" He's about to kiss her cheek when out of the corner of his eye he sees Jim. Before he can pull back, Jim is right next to him.

"Who's this, Seb?"

"Jim—"

"James Moriarty, how do you do?" Jim takes Kelly's hand in his and kisses the top. She kind of giggles. "Seb, when you're finished here, do you mind returning to our table? Our food just arrived."

"Wait, are you…" Kelly glances between Sebastian and Jim, "Are you on a date?"

Sebastian covers his face and feels his face turn red. Before he can answer, Jim says yes. Kelly stares angrily at Sebastian, throws her martini in his face, and stomps away.

"Well, that went well," Jim says.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't have to stop you from going home with a random girl?"

"She wasn't random—"

Jim laughs, "Ok, Seb. Come back to the table if you're not too embarrassed to be on a date with a man." Jim turns around and goes back to the table. Sebastian sits there for a minute wiping his face. He throws the napkin back on the bar. "Damn it," he whispers to himself. He stands, buttons his jacket, and returns to his table.

"All better?"

"No. My eye stings."

"That's what you get."

"How, exactly?"

"Please, Seb. Next time you want to go to a bar to 'Pick up chicks', don't make it while we're on a date."

"Are you jealous?"

"No, I'm annoyed."

"You're jealous."

"And you're embarrassed to be on a date with me."

"Not with _you_—"

"With a man."

"Look, just because I'm not fully…open about this, yet—"

"That's not what you said with my cock inside you this morning."

Sebastian's face turned bright red. He looked around for eavesdropping diners (he caught three) then set his eyes back on Jim. "Could you not say things like that outloud?"

"What, Seb? Embarrassed of it all? Because I don't think you were embarrassed last night when we were—"

"Stop, ok? Stop, please."

"Look, Seb., if you don't want to do this anymore, I understand—"

"No, I didn't say that."

"You said it pretty clearly when you were trying to go home with _Kelly_."

"That was—"

"What, an easy screw?"

"Yes."

"Then could you push away your inner fifteen-year-old boy and focus on our date?"

"All right. I'm sorry."

Jim reaches across the table and takes hold of Sebastian's hand. "It's ok, dear."

Sebastian sighs, blinks, and gives Jim a strained smile. As he's lifting his drink, Jim says, "I love you." Sebastian glares at Jim and right before he takes a sip, he mumbles, "I love you, too."

Sebastian is learning to like date night. In a couple of months, Jim will be surprised when Sebastian takes hold of his hand as their walking down the street after their date. Jim will look down, then at Sebastian. Sebastian will smile but keep looking forward, as if looking at Jim will snap him out of this romantic trance and set them back to where they were six months ago. Jim will laugh and look forward too, because at that point he'll have Sebastian right where he wants him.


	9. Chapter 9

***_I had the sudden urge to share how each couple got together. Sorry if it doesn't go with the title or theme, but I wanted to write this and share it so I hope everyone enjoys! _**

**Couple 1**

Mycroft Holmes met Gregory Lestrade four years ago in Sherlock's flat that he had alone and wasn't 221B. Greg had known Sherlock for one year at that point, and it had been a year of hell with the uncooperative detective. Then Greg met Mycroft and he thought, "Oh my god, there's two." He vowed to stay away from them as much as possible.

But a year later, Mycroft called Greg because he was the first person Mycroft could think of. Not only was he a police officer, but he was actually a big part of Mycroft's younger brother's life, the same younger brother that needed more coaxing to go to rehab. For three months Mycroft and Greg worked together to get Sherlock there, and finally they did.

Those three months were very stressful for Greg. He cared about Sherlock, sure, as much as he had to. And he had never had someone he saw so often have to be sent to rehab. But he did help Mycroft. Hell, he drove Sherlock to the hospital himself.

Sherlock was in rehab for six months. When he got out, Mycroft called Greg to let him know. Mycroft managed to convince Greg to keep an eye on Sherlock. Mycroft called Greg every few weeks to get a report. They spoke on the phone for a few minutes, and then it was over.

Then, Greg called Mycroft.

Somehow, Mycroft was the first person Greg thought of when Greg caught his wife in their bed with another man. Mycroft met Greg at Greg's favorite bar, he was Greg's perfectly listener, perfect psychiatrist. By midnight, Greg was sloshed.

"Good," Greg slurred, "Let her. I don't need her. Let that poor bastard deal with her. Just need my kids. Me 'n' my kids, that's all I need."

Mycroft nodded.

Greg continued, "Why couldn't I do it, too? I'll go, I'll find someone that wants me."

Mycroft nodded. He sipped his drink.

"Would you want me, Mycroft Holmes?"

Mycroft nearly spit his drink out. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, I know."

"Know what, Greg?"

"I know you're," Greg whispered to Mycroft, "Gay."

"You don't really have to whisper, Greg. It's ok."

"You are though."

"Why do you think that?"

"I see you looking at Sherlock's ass."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"I mean…I see me looking at Sherlock's ass. Hell, I might be gay, Mycroft. How do I know?"

"That's usually something you know, Greg."

"Would you kiss me, Mycroft Holmes?"

There goes Mycroft's drink spit again. "Excuse me?"

"Do it, I need to know."

"Know what?"

"If I'm," Greg whispered to Mycroft, "Gay."

"You're drunk, Greg. You're hurt. You're very broken right now," Mycroft stood and pulled Greg up, "Come on, let's get you home."

"I don't want to go there. _She's _there."

"She is your wife, Greg. You need to talk things over with her."

"No way. She is the devil in disguise."

"That's between you and her." Mycroft pulled Greg out of the bar and into his car.

Well, that night ended uneventful. Mycroft let Greg spend the night at his house, but the next day Greg went home to talk things over with his wife. Over the course of the next year, they managed to work things out, but Greg and Mycroft remained friends. They didn't see one another often, but Mycroft would purposefully, "Know something about this case," when Greg was at Sherlock's flat. They'd leave at the same time, talk for a while, then part ways.

A few months of this went on until Greg's wife left him. That same night, Greg went to Mycroft's apartment to talk. Greg was very upset, very vulnerable, and probably not in his right mind, but he kissed Mycroft. It wasn't weird; it was actually quite perfect for both of them.

They didn't begin dating, because Greg's wife wanted him back and Mycroft told Greg to try to make it work for their two kids. Greg agreed, and honestly he tried, but six months later his wife took the kids to Australia. Greg was devastated, of course. He managed to get the agreement to where Greg gets the kids for three months during the summer.

Greg didn't know where to turn except to Mycroft. Mycroft helped as much as he could, and he did help a lot. Finally, after a very long time of them becoming very, very close friends, they decided to give dating a try. It was honest; Greg truly had great feelings for Mycroft. And Mycroft, too, but it was a lot for Greg to make the transition, obviously. But they made it work and they have been now for quite a while.

It's all very good between them, even though they don't live together and don't plan on marriage. Greg just doesn't want to have another divorce under his belt, even though he doesn't think he and Mycroft would ever get divorced. That, and Mycroft can't really see himself being a step-father. 'Dad's boyfriend', sure, but 'step-father'? No thank you.

**Couple 2**

John loved Sherlock. Sherlock loved John. Sherlock jumped off a building. John believed he was dead.

A year after the fall, John met Mary. She was very pretty, very much John's type, and after a while she kept his mind off Sherlock. He fell in love with her, and he won't be ashamed to admit that he was settling. It was sad, but it was true.

He left 221B, of course. There was no way he could ever love anyone else while living in that flat. He just couldn't. They bought a nice home across town. It was nice.

After a year of dating, John proposed. Mary said yes and they had a wedding that summer. John was really very happy, as was Mary. They decided not to have children. John just felt too old, but that was ok with Mary because she wasn't on board with the idea either.

They were very happy together.

Until Sherlock Holmes had to muddle it all up.

John could swear he saw Sherlock sometimes. He'd be walking down the street and have the eerie feeling that someone was following him, and when he'd turn around he'd swear it was Sherlock, but it never was (well, it was but he didn't know that).

It was just after his one year anniversary and John was in a very good mood. He got off early from the hospital, he was going home to pack for his and Mary's vacation. When he got home, he noticed the front door had been opened. He knew Mary was at work, so John was instantly alarmed. He went inside, turned the corner to the living room, and dropped everything in his hands.

"Nice place you've got here," a familiar voice rang in his ears.

John fainted. He didn't know how long he was out, but he was sure that when he'd open his eyes Sherlock would be gone. So he kept his eyes closed for longer than needed.

"John, I know you're awake."

John's eyes flew open. His stomach turned. He was now laying on his couch but he felt like he could faint again. He turned over and looked at Sherlock.

"Sh-Sherlock," John sat up and tried to push himself through the wall behind him.

"Yes, John. As you can see, I am alive."

"B-but, you…dead. Dead. I buried you myself—"

"Well, not technically."

"I…you…dead, Sherlock. Bart's, you jumped off Bart's."

"Ahh, just a trick, John."

"But I saw."

"You see but you do not observe."

John clenched his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Sherlock went to John with a waste basket in his hand. John held it between his knees and rocked back and forth. Sherlock tried to rest his hand on John's shoulder.

"Don't. Don't touch me. If this is an illusion and I am going insane, touching would just clarify it all, Sherlock." John looked at Sherlock's face. The perfect face he once knew was now worn and tired, and skinnier than before. John reached out to touch Sherlock's face, even though he just told himself and Sherlock not to touch. But he did, and Sherlock's face was very real against his fingertips. "Sherlock…" John whispered.

"John, I'm alive. And I'm so, so sorry. It was…it was for the best. They were going to kill you, John. I had to protect you, this was the only way."

"For three years, Sherlock?" John felt like he should have been shouting, but too much joy and relief was flooding him. He felt tears in his eyes.

"Please don't cry, John. You've done enough of that in pain, if you're in pain then cry now, but if you're not then don't. I feel this a joyous occasion, for me at least. I'm so happy to talk to you, John, to see you face to face. But I've seen you this whole time, I've been—"

"Oh my god, I thought I was going insane, Sherlock. I've known, I've known I've seen you on the streets. But it was never you, it was…" John took Sherlock's chin in his hand. He stopped the tears that were about to fall because Sherlock was right, he had cried in grief and this is not a grieving moment. Everything he's wanted for the past three years is—

And right then Mary opened the front door. "John?" She called through the house.

John jumped back from Sherlock. "In here!" He called just as Mary came into the room.

She looked at John, then Sherlock, then John, then when she looked back at Sherlock, she covered her mouth and gasped. She knew exactly who he was from the pictures.

"Ahh," Sherlock stood and went to Mary. He stuck his hand out for her to shake, "You must be Mary."

"Sh-Sherlock Holmes?" She took his hand. "I thought you were dead."

"Yes, well, so did John."

Sherlock ate dinner there that night and left afterward. John was completely overjoyed, and Mary honestly had never seen him as happy as he was that night. John wanted to leave with Sherlock, just to be alone and catch up, but Sherlock made John stay back. But that was fine, they'd see each other tomorrow.

And they saw each other most days after that. And John was happier. And John smiled more. And John saw Sherlock more often than Mary. And John became unhappy. And John saw Sherlock less because Mary knew something was up.

She had known when she met John that John was in love with Sherlock. But Sherlock was dead, she told herself. And John loved her now, Sherlock wasn't around to steal John away. Until Sherlock was around to steal John away.

Mary left John eleven months after Sherlock's return. John should have been more upset than he was, but on the bright side he got to move back in with Sherlock and he got to see Sherlock every day and he got to wake up to Sherlock in the kitchen and he didn't have to worry about making it home before Mary went to bed instead of staying out all night on a crime run. And John became happy again.

Three months after his divorce was finalized, John told Sherlock he loves him, that he always has and he always will. He told Sherlock that the moment he saw him in his flat he thought it was a dream because only dreams could be that fantastic. Sherlock told John that he loves John, too. He told John that seeing him roam the streets of London looking so lost and alone nearly really did kill him, but he had to stay away for John's safety. He told John that leaving him was the hardest thing he's ever done, and that he'll never leave him again.

They went to bed together that night. They kissed a few times and just held each other, because that's what they wanted to do. That was their happiest moment together.

Their relationship hasn't been the greatest thing to live through. Sherlock is difficult and childish; John nags and has a temper. But any time they feel angry or annoyed or distant, one of them will think of the day Sherlock died and all will be forgotten in a mess of kisses and hugs and love. Because that's what Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are: love.

**Couple 3**

James Moriarty met Sebastian Moran six months after Sebastian was sent back to England after the war. Sebastian was skinny and dirty and practically homeless and was in desperate need of a job; it was just fortunate that the job that was offered was _this _job.

Jim was pointed the direction of Sebastian before Sebastian was even sent back. Duh. A guy like Sebastian? Of course Jim knew who he was. Sebastian isn't exactly a 'good-guy', just like Jim.

Jim found Sebastian drunk outside a bar. He sat down next to Sebastian and offered him a cigarette, then a job. Sebastian felt the first inkling of happiness when the job was offered to him; he got to do what he was especially good at and make money for it. The money might have been the best part. Jim put Sebastian up in a fancy hotel that night; he took Sebastian for a nice dinner the next night; he bought Sebastian an expensive suit the day after that.

"You really don't have to do all of this, James." Sebastian pleaded. Although he liked the hotels and the dinner and the suit.

"It comes with the job."

Four weeks later, Sebastian found out what else came with the job four weeks later after he made his first kill. He had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock on the door. He answered it.

"James? What are you doing here?"

"I saw you kill Raymond."

"Oh, cool."

Jim stepped into Sebastian's room, trapping Sebastian against the wall. Jim kissed Sebastian, and it wasn't anything even close to romantic. Sebastian's stomach turned and he pushed Jim away.

"What are you doing, James?"

"It comes with the job, Seb."

"I just, I don't want to…I'm not—"

Jim shushed him by kissing him again, this time removing his towel.

A lot happened that night that Sebastian was _not _enjoying, but he wanted to keep his job so he let Jim do whatever he wanted. It was…no, Sebastian didn't like it. He woke up feeling very ill and wrong. Thankfully Jim was gone, and Sebastian stayed in bed all day.

It happened again a week later, and the week after that. This went on for a few months, and Sebastian began to get used to it. After the first few months, Sebastian was ashamed to admit that he actually began to like it. The job was the job, the money was the money, and sex was sex. He began to not care, because like so much else about what he did, morals didn't matter.

After about a year he actually liked being Jim's…whatever. He liked that Jim was finally someone that _got _him. He liked working with Jim. He liked sleeping with Jim. And he liked that Jim loved him, or felt as close to love as a psychopath like James Moriarty could get.

Sebastian moved in with Jim after a long while. Everything felt normal. Everything felt routine, and in their crazy lives that's what the two needed: something mundane and every day and stable. Well, as stable as it could be.

Then Jim went and shot himself. Well, no…not really…he was alive, very alive. After he revealed to Sebastian that he was alive (about four months after being 'dead'), they moved out of London to pursue a life of crime in America, thanks to Mycroft Holmes. Everything was arranged and everything was perfect, and it still is. They're very happy and living in New York, continuing what they love and being together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Couple 1**

Mycroft and Greg have their fair shares of fights. It's not _often_, exactly, but it's not _never_. And their fights are never shouting, saying things to hurt each other fights; it's usually little disagreements and discussions that are over as soon as they begin. They usually never stay angry for longer than a few hours, a night at most, then it's over.

_Usually _is not happening right now. Mycroft has been angry with Greg for two days. He has not said anything to Greg for two days. Because Greg, our lovely little detective inspector that doesn't do a thing to make Mycroft angry, insulted his baby brother. Greg not only insulted his baby brother, but in turn Greg insulted him as well.

Two days earlier, Greg was out on a particularly difficult case where he needed the assistance of one the little Holmes. The little Holmes was being extremely annoying and an extreme asshole, making Greg extremely angry and shouty when he got home.

"What did he do, Greg?" Mycroft asked.

"He called me an idiot!"

"He always does that."

"No, no. This time it was mean, he said things to actually hurt people. I called him an idiot right back."

"Mmmmm."

"I don't get it, Mycroft!" Greg was almost screaming in frustration, "I don't get why he has to be so mean!" Greg wasn't even thinking anymore. He was just yelling everything he felt. "I was doing _my _job! It's not even his job! He doesn't get paid, I don't pay him! Why, why, why does he like to torture me? I swear, I swear sometimes I think there's something truly wrong with that man! Something wrong with…I don't know, the way he was raised? His genetics, his environment? And I help him…I let him do what he loves and what he's good at, and he repays me by making a fool of me and calling me names? No. Not anymore, I will not let him push me around anymore! I'm not calling him anymore, no way!"

Mycroft very calmly sat and listened to Greg shout. When Greg finished, he sighed loudly and said, "You done?"

"No, I'm bloody well not done, damnit! Damn him, damn everything about Sherlock!"

Mycroft waited a minute or two before standing and putting his coat on.

Greg looked up from his palms and asked, "Where are you going?"

Mycroft looked at Greg. "I understand you are angry and anger causes people to say things they might regret later. However, I believe you one-hundred percent meant everything you just said. I listen to you when you complain about Sherlock, Greg, I do. I understand, I've lived with him. But I believe sometimes you forget that he's my brother. Say what you will about my baby brother as a colleague, Greg, but implying there's something wrong with him because of genetics and environment is implying there's something wrong with me. So I'm going home, or maybe I'll go to my brother's so we can be strange together. Call me when you're finished." Mycroft left Greg's flat and slammed the door.

Greg called not twenty minutes later, but by then Mycroft was at Sherlock's house. He didn't answer Greg, instead he annoyed his brother with nothing more than his presence.

Two days later, here we are in almost the same place, only now Greg is also at Sherlock's flat. Sherlock is, once again, withholding information and evidence that is also vital to Mycroft. Before Mycroft got there, Sherlock and Greg are arguing about the evidence.

"Just turn it over, Sherlock. It'll make everyone's lives a lot easier."

"I'll just call my brother."

"Your brother does not intimidate me."

"Ha! Yes, he does. Right now he does."

"Did he tell you about our fight, then?"

"No, but you just did."

Greg sighs in annoyance and rubs his eyes. "Fine. Tell me."

"Well, assuming on how you're actually being a little bit more helpful and nice to me, I'm going to assume the fight was about me. It made him angry enough to leave because while he was here, he drank two glasses of wine. And you haven't seen him since because you haven't shaved in two days."

"Simple, yeah. Fine, call your brother."

Sherlock does. Mycroft arrives ten minutes later, and is surprised to see Greg there.

"H-hey, Mycroft."

"Lestrade."

"Yes, yes, we all know each other. Ok, the evidence. No, you're not getting it. I will solve it." Sherlock says.

Mycroft frowns at Sherlock, "You know we could both force you to share."

"We aren't toddlers, Mycroft. I don't have to _share_."

"You're acting like a toddler!" Greg shouts.

Mycroft looks from Sherlock to Greg, "Maybe it has something to do with the way he was raised."

Greg throws his arms in the air and shouts, "Ok, Mycroft! Here we are! Your turn! Shout, call me names, whatever!"

"No, Greg. I am an adult. Let's move on."

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock _is _sharing his information and Mycroft and Greg are listening. That is, until Sherlock mentions that the victim tripped on a pair of jeans that are thrown on the floor of his bedroom.

At this, Mycroft mutters, "It's a wonder we're still alive with all the jeans thrown about our floor."

"Ok, Mycroft, go ahead! Lay it on me!"

"All I'm saying is, _your _environment is messy and cluttered, maybe that's why you need my brother's help to solve cases! Because _your _environment has made your brain messy and cluttered!"

"Look, I was angry, ok? I didn't mean—"

"Then, you shouldn't have said it."

"I regret saying it, ok?"

Mycroft lifts his chin and examines his fingernails, seemingly not hearing anything Greg's saying.

"Can everyone just apologize and get on with it?" Sherlock asks.

"What do you want me to do, Mycroft? Get on my knees and plead my sorry."

"No, that won't due." Mycroft says. Greg sighs relief. "I want you to apologize to him," Mycroft points his fingers at Sherlock, "Then me."

Greg flairs his nostrils and looks at Sherlock, who has a very large smile on his face. "Sherlock," Greg says, "I am very sorry for the things I said about you when you weren't there. I didn't mean it."

Sherlock smiles. "Thank you, Greg."

Greg turns to Mycroft. He gets on his knees next to Mycroft's chair for good measure. "Mycroft, I'm sorry for what I said about you and Sherlock. I didn't mean it. Nothing is wrong with you. You are perfect."

Sherlock mimics a voice of a teenage girl, "Oh Greg, you're so sweet! Do you mean it!"

Greg and Mycroft stare at Sherlock. Mycroft looks at Greg, "Thank you, Greg. Your apology is appreciated." Mycroft kisses Greg.

This will be the last fight they'll have for a while, the next fight may or may not be about Greg not having the ability to understand incredibly simple things. But that's all for another time, really.

**Couple 2**

John has a short fuse. Sherlock is incredibly annoying. This might be all you need to know about John and Sherlock and fights, but if you must know then keep reading, and you will learn about the current little tiff they're having about fingers.

"Fingers, Sherlock."

"Extremities."

"_**FIIIIIIINGERS.**_"

"Digits. Antennas. Claws. Tentacles."

"There are human fingers in every single one of my tea cups and mugs."

"Fact."

"I'm actually wondering why I have thirty tea cups and mugs—"

"I borrowed ten from Mrs. Hudson—"

"And not wondering why there are thirty fingers on my kitchen table."

"The living room has poor lighting."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"What am I saying?"

"You are talking. Period. While I am angry."

"Why are you angry?"

John stares at Sherlock and flairs his nostrils. "You have _fingers _on my kitchen table and you're wondering why I'm angry?"

"I thought we got past this—"

"I will never be past this."

"You knew when you moved in—"

"I did not know. You said violin and silence, not fingers and severed heads. And by the way, there has been no silence. You said silence, there has been none."

"Would you like there to be silence?"

"I didn't say that. I like when you talk, and I will for the most part listen to every last word you utter, but you said silence."

John is getting no reply. Because Sherlock? He can be silent. If it means annoying John because John's anger is annoying? He can definitely be silent.

"All I ask is that sometimes you keep the fingers at the morgue."

"…"

"And keep my mugs clean."

"…"

"And you said silence."

"…"

"And come to think of it will you please for gods sake pick up your underwear?"

"…"

"And take mine off." John caught himself, "That's not an invitation."

"…"

"And not make a damn fool of me at scenes?"

"…"

"And not make a fool of me in front of your brother?"

Despite the fact that he really wants to, Sherlock does not ask why John seems like he wants to impress Mycroft. "…"

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow but doesn't look away from his book. "…"

"Are you listening?"

"…"

"…" follows a nod.

John sighs. "Your turn. Come on. Where's your rebuttal?"

"…" follows a shrug.

"Are you intentionally being silent because you know how annoying it is?"

"…" follows a nod.

"Two can play that game."

"…" follows and questioning look.

"The annoying game."

"…" follows a shrug.

John is silent for ten minutes. It very much does not annoy Sherlock because Sherlock goes to the kitchen and finishes his experiment. When he's finished, he takes each and every finger from their mug, places them on a plate, takes them to the living room, and places them on the coffee table.

John sighs loudly. "Sherlock."

"…" follows a shrug.

"Stop it."

"…" follows a head shake.

"Please."

"…"

"You're annoying me."

"…" follows a smile.

"Ok, I'm done. I apologize. Do as you please with our mugs and our kitchen and other peoples' fingers."

Nope. The silence does not end. Sherlock is silent for the next six hours, without pause. John is about to rip his hair out or strangle Sherlock in his sleep. They're now laying in bed, in silence, in the dark, not touching. That is, until Sherlock's hand slips from his stomach to John's hand. John clenches Sherlock's hand.

"Are you finished?" John asks.

"…"

"Because you've made your point."

"…"

"And I'm sorry for all the things I said."

"…"

"I don't want you to change one bit."

"…"

"I love everything about you."

"…"

"I promise."

"…"

"Sherlock?"

"…"

"I want to break up."

"What?" Sherlock shouts, turning and pulling John tight.

"Ha-ha!" John evil laughs, "Got you. I win."

"That was mean!"

"And you've been annoying me all day!"

"No, wait, but—"

John strokes Sherlock's face and laughs.

"Are you really breaking up with me?"

"No, my dumb love."

"I'm far from dumb, John."

"Ok, my annoying love."

"That's better."

So, basically, their fights will last a long time, but eventually Sherlock will break and all will be well (except the fingers don't ever leave the house, but that little fight will start up again tomorrow).

**Couple 3**

It definitely will surprise you to know that Jim and Sebastian do not fight. Jim isn't the easiest person to be around; Jim isn't the kindest; Jim isn't the best listener. And yeah, they get on each other's nerves and disagree about _everything_. But fighting they do not do.

Because while Jim knows how to be the most annoying, ungrateful, unfriendly partner ever, Jim also knows one fact that will never, ever fail him: a happy sniper is one hell of a good sniper.

And Sebastian knows that Jim knows this. Sebastian knows that Jim will do nice things just to make him happy. Sebastian knows that the mornings they have a crime to organize, Jim will _not _wake him up, Jim will _not _hog all the hot water, Jim will _not _use all the milk, Jim will _not _pick out what he should wear. Sebastian wishes they had a client every day, his life with Jim would probably be freaking perfect.

Because while Sebastian does love Jim, he will stand by Jim as not only his lover or boyfriend or friend, but as a business partner, he is also the sole person on earth that knows first hand how difficult James Moriarty can be (besides James Moriarty, of course). He has never wished to change Jim –except while he's sleeping— and he will never wish to change Jim.

But like I said, Jim knows that a happy sniper makes for a good sniper. So if Jim does something he knows that will make Sebastian mad, he'll apologize. He will take Sebastian in his arms and say, "I'm sorry, Seb." And Sebastian will say, "I know, Jim." And Jim will more than likely kiss his plump lips, let him sleep, or take him to dinner.

However, in addition to all the things Jim will do for Sebastian, Sebastian will not bother being nice or doing nice things for Jim if he has to. He'll clean up or make dinner because he loves Jim, but he knows that no matter how angry Jim gets at him, Jim will not fire him; and likewise, Jim will not dump him. He knows how much Jim needs him, in more ways than one. He knows that he does mean something to Jim (he learned that after Jim 'came back from the dead').

So, altogether, the two men know how to live in harmony because living in harmony is the easiest thing to do. Sure, they get angry (they're only human), and sometimes they want to walk away; but they'll take a walk and they'll come back and say sorry and say they love each other and say goodnight and they'll probably end up spooning in the middle of the night because _that's what they do_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Couple 1**

"It really is just a regular day, Greg." Mycroft says as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and begins to button.

"Yes, but I like it, ok?"

Mycroft would have never pegged Greg as a silly romantic, but then again he's learned to stop pegging Greg as things because Greg can and has proved his assumptions wrong.

"I don't get why." Mycroft mumbles under his breath.

"Because it's romantic and full of love, just like me."

"But I get you every day."

"Just think of February 14th as me, just on steroids." Greg smiles at Mycroft and kisses his cheek, then goes to the kitchen.

Later that night, while they're in bed reading, they're discussing their Valentine's Day plans.

"So, what do you have in mind, then? Dinner?" Mycroft asks.

"Yeah, we can do that." Greg says, not sounding all that enthusiastic.

"Well what do you want to do?"

"Oh, I have a few things planned."

"Do you?"

"Yup."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"If you'd like, but they're set so no matter what you can't disagree."

"Tell me."

"We are having dinner. We are not going out. I am cooking."

"You are?" Mycroft asks, not sounding all that enthusiastic. Another thing Mycroft has learned is to not trust Greg's cooking.

"Don't sound like that. I've been practicing."

"You have?"

"Yep. Just for you, baby." Greg leans over and kisses Mycroft, then turns over and shuts his lamp off.

"What else are we doing?"

"It's a surprise."

"You know how I feel about surprises."

"Exactly." Greg smiles, and then shuts his eyes and drifts to sleep.

The next night Greg starts dinner before Mycroft gets home. All day he's felt like a big ball of mushy-love, and he was exploding with the romantic stuff. He saw a few people get flowers at work, he saw a few people get chocolates and other candies, someone brought cookies for everyone, and he went and got Mycroft a new watch. He didn't expect anything from Mycroft, he knew Mycroft didn't feel the same way about V-Day that he did, but it was ok to him.

Greg stared at the recipe for spaghetti for twenty minutes before wanting to give up. It really wasn't a difficult recipe, but he knew he was going to screw it up. When he was about to give up and call their favorite restaurant for a take-out order, Mycroft walks in.

After Mycroft showers, he goes to the kitchen to help Greg. Mycroft _can _cook, he's actually quite good at it, but he has never, but probably will in the future, make meals for them.

Mycroft cuts into a tomato and begins conversation, "So, what have your past Valentine's Days consisted of?"

"Well usually just dates. My wife and I used to hire a baby sitter and go out. But the past few years, I'd take my daughter to dinner."

"I'm sorry that couldn't happen today."

"It's ok. They called me, which made me very happy."

"Good. When are they coming?"

"The end of May." Greg says with a huge smile on his face. Mycroft loves that smile, and even though they're very happy it doesn't come often. As a matter of fact, Mycroft hasn't seen that smile much except for today.

At that moment, Mycroft realizes how much Valentine's Day means to Greg. He realizes that Greg's had a really difficult few years, but he still manages to love the hell out of Valentine's Day, and him. Mycroft's heart breaks a little bit because he hasn't really made any deal of today.

"Crap!" Mycroft shouts, deciding that he needs to go get Greg a gift and it might be too late.

"What?"

"What? Nothing. I just…I just realized I forgot something at the office." Mycroft washes his hands and puts his coat on. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back, ok?"

Greg watches Mycroft go, then continues cooking. He doesn't feel like Mycroft's taking their V-Day date seriously, but he continues cooking anyway.

Mycroft wanders around for two hours looking for a gift. He checks his phone for the time (his watch broke last week) and sees he has two missed calls and a text. The two missed calls are, of course, from Greg and the text reads:

** From: Greg Lestrade 7:34 PM**

_Look, I realize you don't care as much about today as I do, so I cleaned up and went home. There's spaghetti in the fridge, even though you probably won't eat it. See you later._

The text was sent twenty minutes before, so Greg was home by that time. Then it began to rain. Mycroft looks up into the sky and curses everyone and everything for the bad fortune he's having. But he wants to make it up to Greg; he wants to save the day. He ducks into the nearest store and buys the first Valentine's Day item he can find, which is a small heart box with five candies in it.

He practically runs to Greg's house. In the rain. It's dark and he's slipping and his coat is getting ruined, but he runs anyway.

He rings the doorbell to Greg's flat and gets buzzed in. Before he's up the stairs, Greg has the door open.

"Mycroft, what are you doing?"

When Mycroft gets to the door, he runs into Greg's arms and kisses him. The kiss doesn't last long, Mycroft's panting and out of breath. He holds up the heart of candy and gives a faint smile.

"I went out to find you a gift, but all I could find was this," Mycroft looks at the pathetic little heart in his hand and frowns, "It's really not anything at all. And it's all wet. And it's kind of squished because I ran here—"

"You ran here?"

"Yeah."

"You idiot, why didn't you get a cab?"

"Because I thought running would be quicker to get to you."

Greg gives Mycroft a large smile and kisses him, pulling him into the flat. Later, Greg gives Mycroft his watch and they eat cereal because that's the only food Greg has at his house. But all-in-all, they both have a very special, very romantic Valentine's Day.

**Couple 2**

John wakes up early in the morning tangled in the limbs of Sherlock Holmes. He smiles. It's February 14th, and though many don't believe in Valentine's Day, Sherlock and John do. Now, at least.

John hugs Sherlock tighter and laughs thinking about their first Valentine's Day together. It was two years ago and they had only been a couple for three months. John wasn't sure how to approach it because he wasn't sure if Sherlock even knew what Valentine's Day was, but John decided to ask anyway.

"So, Sherlock, Valentine's Day is coming up."

"Yes, and?"

"And I was just wondering—"

Sherlock sighs, "Yes, I know what it is and what its origin is and what it's about and what couples do. Please stop acting so shocked, John."

"Well, it's just that I—"

"Just what?"

John decides that he's not going to get anything more from Sherlock and stops questioning.

The next day he's at the grocery store when he strolls down the Valentine's Day isle. If there's one thing Sherlock loves it's sweets, and if there's one thing Valentine's Day can be good for it's sweets. So John buys his sweet three bags of M&M's, two bags of Hershey's Kisses, two bags of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and two bags of assorted Valentine's candies. He wants to put them back to buy after Valentine's Day (they're cheaper then), but he wants to surprise Sherlock.

He gets home and Sherlock's not there, so rather than telling Sherlock about all the candy he's just bought, he puts them up in Sherlock's candy cupboard (yes, he has one) to let the detective find.

Sherlock does find them one hour later. "John, did you put these candies in here?"

"I did."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Why?"

"Why are you welcome?" John asks, confused.

"No, why did you buy all of this candy for me?"

"Because you like candy. And the stores are overstocked with candy right now."

"Oh. Ok." Sherlock doesn't say anything more.

The next day is Valentine's Day and Sherlock gets up before John. He couldn't stop thinking about the candy and that there must be some other motive for John buying him all that Valentine's Day candy.

He gets dressed and goes to the store, well a lot of stores, and at every store he sees the same things: flowers, cards, candies, other sweets, and all of it is covered with hearts and Valentine's Day sayings.

"Ridiculous," Sherlock mutters to himself, reading a card in the shape of a heart, "This isn't even a heart. This is a fake heart."

"Can I help you for something, sir?" A worker asks. She is shorter than Sherlock and a lot younger, but she seems to like Sherlock. "Are you looking for something specific?"

"No, not really."

"No? Nothing for the…girlfriend?" When she asks, Sherlock realizes if he says no she'll ask him out.

"I just don't know if my boyfriend likes this sort of…stuff."

"Oh," she says, disappointed. "Well, we have cards for men. And sometimes anybody appreciates flowers."

"Really? Should I get him flowers?"

"I don't know, what kind of things does he like?"

"He likes shooting people. And me. He likes me. And…here we go." Sherlock smiles as he picks up a card that has tons of flowers on it. It's not the prettiest card, and the look on the worker's face shows it. "No?" Sherlock asks.

"You've never done this, have you?"

"Nope," Sherlock puts the card back and throws his hands in the air, "Forget it, maybe I just won't get him anything."

"How will he know you appreciate him this Valentine's Day?"

"He knows I appreciate him. I died for him," the worker looks alarmed so Sherlock continues, "Well, not really. I jumped off a building, I didn't die…but then I disappeared. On second thought, I should get him something."

For the two hours, Sherlock examines every card, every candy, and every flower until he finds the right ones. He thanks the worker (her name was Michelle, he finds out later) and returns home.

John is up and making breakfast when Sherlock gets home. He enters the flat with everything behind his back, and when John sees him he smiles.

"Hey, where'd you go?"

"Just had to pop out for a few things."

"For two hours?"

"Yeah, just a few things."

John pours his tea and sits down, motioning for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock steps closer to the table and faintly smiles.

"I went to get you these," Sherlock pulls the flowers from behind his back. "They were the best the store had, even though they're not that great."

John looks completely shocked. He takes the flowers and smells them, smiling at their strong scent. Sherlock hands John the box of candy, then the card.

"These aren't all that great either, but if you want to pick out any candy from my stash, I'll share."

"What's all this for, Sherlock? Is this because the candy was Valentine's decorated? You didn't have to, that wasn't for—"

"No, John. It's because I disappeared for three years and haven't made it up to you." Sherlock goes to his knees folds his hands on John's knee. "But I will make it up to you, John, I'll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to."

John smiles and begins to cry a little bit. He hasn't thought much of that day, not since Sherlock came back. "You don't have to, Sherlock, I—"

"I do, John, you deserve so much."

John bends to kiss Sherlock and Sherlock meets him half way. They stay in that position until Sherlock's knees begin to ache from the hard floor. Then he takes his seat at the table.

"I didn't get you anything for Valentine's Day, Sherlock. I'm sorry I didn't know if you wanted to or not."

"It's quite all right, John." Sherlock says, even though John looks disappointed. "How about you make it up to me with dinner tonight?"

"Angelo's?"

"Of course."

That Valentine's Day ended up perfect, and to this day Sherlock is still trying to make it up to John. Tonight's _plan _is to have a romantic dinner on the roof, but little does John know in bed, right now is that tonight will end with them in Bart's Morgue trying to distinguish the time of death of a body by the foods in it's stomach; but could we expect any less from them?

**Couple 3**

They don't do Valentine's Day. They are men. Men don't like Valentine's Day. At least, that's what Sebastian claimed last Valentine's Day. But that was all fine, because Jim isn't fond of the ridiculous 'holiday' anyway. If it was up to Jim (and thank goodness it's not) his previous Valentine's Days would have been spent shooting couples from high roof tops. But that was all before he was in a relationship.

It's not that he wants to shower Sebastian with _love _and _affection, _it's that recently (thanks to Sebastian) he's realized that he is a human for god's sakes, and damn it if he wants to kiss those lips and tell that perfect face he loves it, he will.

But he is very capable of doing that any day of the year, which is why they make Valentine's Day a day of not talking. What? They don't talk? Correct. On the night of the 13th, Sebastian gets a hotel room on the other side of town. They turn their phones off for a day without interruption and go about their business.

This year, Sebastian has a client on the 14th. He must meet with said client and discuss next week's robbery plans. _The meeting would be a lot easier with Jim here_, Sebastian thinks. Then he starts thinking about what him and Jim did yesterday (killed people!) and gets distracted. _Nope, _he thinks, _not gonna think about him. _

Meanwhile, Jim is at home in bed still. Without another occupant and without anything to do that day, he sprawls out as much as he can and rests. At one point, he shifts and his head ends up on Sebastian's pillow. He inhales; it smells like Sebastian. _Nope, _he thinks, _not today. _He gets up and gets in the shower.

All of Sebastian's toiletries are gone, which was disappointing. Jim thinks that if he's not going to see Sebastian that day and Sebastian won't get mad if Jim uses his shampoo, then he'll use it. But Jim figures this is better. _No Seb today, none._

Sebastian gets out of the meeting and gets lunch. It's noon and he knows it's lunch time because for the past year with Jim, Jim's had him on that schedule. _But there's no Jim today, _Sebastian thinks. Then Sebastian starts to think about what it felt like last time he thought that. It was two years ago and the day after Jim shot himself. Sebastian knew he was going to do it, he had time to prepare, but preparations were nothing compared to how he felt when he thought _There's no Jim today, and there won't be tomorrow. _Sebastian contemplated giving in and going home, but he wants to win. If Jim wants to see him and if Jim misses him, he'll find him. Sebastian wants to win this.

After Jim is dressed, he runs errands. He meets a client that called two hours ago on a last minute job, and by the time he gets out of the meeting it's 4:30. He knows he could go home, where Sebastian is not, or he could go suit shopping, where Sebastian also is not. He likes shopping with Sebastian, so he goes home and takes a shower.

Around 6 o'clock, he picks up his phone to call Sebastian. No calls, no texts, nothing; he knows Sebastian doesn't want to see him. His stomach turns at the thought of Sebastian at some bar trying to take a girl back to the hotel.

The truth is, Sebastian has been sitting at the bar of the hotel for an hour trying to decide if he wants to go home. A few girls tried to talk to him; it just made him long for Jim more. Usually when a girl hits on him, Jim will come out of nowhere and re-claim Sebastian. _But Jim isn't here, _Sebastian thinks as he slams his drink back. He looks disheveled and drunk, but he's not. It's just been a rough day.

For a minute, Sebastian's mind tells him that Jim was made up and that he really is dead. He looks around, hoping it's not all a dream. He orders another drink and decides it's not a dream, but his mind is still claiming that Jim's dead. He starts to cry. He knows he's drunk now, but there's no reason he should be crying.

"Hey, buddy, you ok?" The bartender asks.

"I'm fine." Sebastian replies, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes.

Jim's sitting on the couch of their flat and getting more and more angry at the vision of Sebastian with someone desperate from the bar. _It's Valentine's Day, it's got to be crawling with desperate little girls. _Jim wants to win this, but when it comes to Sebastian, something more than he is prideful in their challenges is jealous. He won't ever verbally admit to Sebastian that he gets jealous easily, but Sebastian knows by the way Jim takes him to bed those nights.

Jim figures he's had enough and throws his coat on. He calls Sebastian while he's in the car, but Sebastian doesn't answer. Luckily, the first place he thinks to look for Sebastian is at the hotel, he figures he can at least catch Sebastian in the act.

He goes to the front desk and asks Carl (who he knows) if he's seen Sebastian at all. Carl shrugs and takes a call, so Jim goes up to Sebastian's room. He knocks and knocks but there's no answer. Giving up, Jim goes down to the bar, where to his delight he sees Sebastian slumped over on a barstool. He smiles and goes over. When he's close enough, he hears Sebastian's faint cries and wants to instantly console him. But he doesn't. He wants to cheer Sebastian up, not keep him upset. He sits on the stool next to Sebastian and orders.

Sebastian looks up as he sees a figure sit next to him. "J—"

Jim sticks his hand out to shake Sebastian's, "James Moriarty, how do you do?"

"Jim?"

"Yes."

"Wh-what day is it?"

"February 14th of 2012."

Sebastian realizes that Jim is roll-playing and smiles. He wipes his eyes and takes Jim's hand, "Sebastian Moran."

They talk and drink and after a while Jim looks at his watch. It's not Valentine's Day anymore, the game can stop and they can be Jim and Seb again.

"You want to get out of here, Seb?" Jim asks, his voice back to the normal of when he's alone with Sebastian.

"Where to?"

"Home?" Jim throws bills on the bar and hops off his stool.

Sebastian follows and once they're walking towards the entrance, Sebastian leans into Jim and says, "You should probably know that I have a boyfriend."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes," he lets Jim lead him to a cab, "And you should know he gets very jealous."

"Well, we'll just have to," Jim pushes Sebastian against the side of the cab with his hips, "Be discrete, now won't we?" He asks, then pushes his tongue into Sebastian's mouth.

The next day, Sebastian will tell Jim why he was crying at the bar and how he feels when he's not with Jim. Inwardly, Jim will make a promise to not leave Sebastian alone anymore, no matter what day it is. And next year they'll probably spend it shooting couple.s (not really, they'll spend it people watching from a high building, but it's almost the same right?).

**_*Happy Valentine's Day! I'm a Lestrade and I absolutely love it, even though I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything. Anyway, I love the responses and tomorrow they're be a fic for _ladyhappy _that may or may not have something to do with the first time they all do something that may or may not be three words long and has eight letters (yes, it is I EAT FOOD!). *Also, in case anyone cares my Sebastian Moran is David Beckham (_johnwatson-ismy-patronus dot tumblr dot com/post/16971385094/i-dont-care-what-anybody-says-david-beckham-is). _Sorry! _ _If anyone has any scenarios they want to know about, please let me know! _**


	12. Chapter 12

**Couple 1**

Mycroft and Greg dated for a long time before taking things to the 'next level'. While Mycroft is gay and has known for the majority of his life, all of this was very, very new to Greg. He had been married, to a woman, for almost ten years and before that was in a long-term relationship that didn't go anywhere. Greg thought he had been a sexual being for a long time, but he realized he was wrong when he started dating Mycroft.

Greg came to realize, before he and Mycroft got together, that to him it was very much more what was inside the person that counts. Greg realized that he tried to see the good in everyone. Hell, it's probably the reason he gave Sherlock-The-Druggie a chance to work with him.

But Greg saw beauty, of course. He was attracted to his wife, he's attracted to Mycroft, but all-in-all it's their personalities that pulled him in. It's definitely why he chose to try to make it work with his wife so much, and it's definitely why it was so easy to fall in love with Mycroft.

Like I said, Greg and Mycroft didn't take it to the 'next level' for a long time. Mycroft isn't that sexual a being, and though he is a man and he does have needs, he was well ready to wait for Greg. And Greg damn well took his time until Mycroft couldn't keep his hands off of him any longer.

It's nine and a half months into their relationship, and desperation of touching is seeping out of Mycroft's pores. Greg could tell that any light touch or kiss would make Mycroft burst and take him to bed _now_. But Mycroft, the old fashioned gentleman he is, was going to wait it out and let Greg make the first move. He was in no hurry, but _damn, _Greg. Get the show on the road.

Greg is taking Mycroft to dinner at the restaurant they had their first date. It's quiet and dark and intimate, and Greg finds it devastatingly romantic. He's only thinking about Mycroft, which is good because these days thinking about his wife and the divorce are getting less and less frequent.

And Greg knows he loves Mycroft; that's what's occupying 72% of his brain right now. "I love you, I love you." Is all Greg wants and needs to say, but he can't. He doesn't think Mycroft does, even though John's had this conversation with him a thousand times and, "Yes, Greg, he's as crazy about you as you are for him."

So they are eating dinner and talking and laughing and holding hands across the table, because Greg? He definitely does not care what others think. If his wife can have an affair and everyone around them know it then damn it he can have a boyfriend.

Because he loves that boyfriend.

So they get in the car to go home, to Mycroft's home which practically is home nowadays. Greg takes a moment to think about his own flat and realizes he can't remember what his bed feels like. Then he smiles and kisses Mycroft, because he really doesn't care.

Because he loves being near Mycroft.

So they get home and Mycroft doesn't think he can wait any longer, and that's fine because Greg is the first to start kissing. They're sitting on the couch and Greg seeks life in the form of Mycroft, because he doesn't care about breathing anymore. He'll hold on if Mycroft can give it to him.

Because Mycroft is his life.

So Mycroft pulls Greg off the couch and pushes him slowly towards the bedroom. Mycroft doesn't intend to pause, but once they're next to the door Greg stops.

"My-Mycroft, wait," Greg says.

Mycroft instantly stops and take his hand out from under Greg's shirt. He pulls away. "I'm sorry, too soon, too quick. I'll stop. I'm sorry, Greg."

Greg's arms don't move from their position around Mycroft's neck, which Mycroft finds as a good sign. "No, it's not that."

"Are you sure, because we don't have to—"

"Mycroft, stop. I've got something to say."

Mycroft places his arms around Greg's waist and meets him chest to chest. "What is it?"

"I…I just…" Greg's eyes flash from Mycroft's eyes to his lips, back to his eyes. "I love you."

Mycroft's breath catches and he shakes. Nobody's ever said that before, besides Mummy. Hell, the last time Sherlock said it, Sherlock was eight. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do. And I have for a long time."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Because Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"If you love me I'm never letting go."

"Please don't."

Mycroft gives Greg a half smile and Greg pushes Mycroft into the bedroom. While they're in bed, they tell each other they love each other seven times before going to sleep. And they tell each other ever day, multiple times, in multiple ways. And Mycroft will never let go.

**Couple 2**

The morning is beginning with a fight. John woke ten minutes ago because the fire alarm was going off (it's 4 AM) and Sherlock running into his room shouting nonsense about a case and fire and "Wake up, John, this is no time for sleep!"

John is red with anger. Not much since he's moved back in with Sherlock has he been angry, and not at all has he been this angry. He's about thirty seconds away from yelling and throwing things like books and probably punches and–

"John I used the last of your tea, I hope you don't mind."

That does it. John doesn't know why and there's no reason a few missing tea leafs should make him this much _more _angry, but now he's jumping off the couch and throwing his arms in the air.

"You complete fucking god damn idiot! It's four in the morning and you wake me up because a fire that isn't even here, Sherlock! And you won't let me go back to bed, not that I could since I have to be up in an hour _for you, thank you very much! _But now I won't even have tea to start my morning with? Good fucking morning, Sherlock! How the hell are you?"

In the midst of John's shouts, Sherlock sets his goggles and tongs down and stares at John. "Ok, John," he says after John's stopped shouting, "Out with it."

"Out with it? I just told you, I'm angry because—"

"This isn't about tea leafs, John. What is it, tell me."

John sighs harshly. The truth is, he's been very, very angry with Sherlock lately because his wife just left him because John _loves _this man right here, but John can't say anything because this man is a machine and there's no way he feels the same. Many times, John's thought about just saying it to get it out in the open and not feel this sort of guilt anymore. But he hasn't.

"Well?" Sherlock asks.

_No time like the present, _John thinks. "I'm hurt, Sherlock," John shouts, "My wife left me. My divorce was finalized not three months ago, and why, Sherlock? For _you! _But why? You _left _me. I don't owe you, if anything you owe me—"

"I didn't think that was an issue anymore."

"Of course it's an issue, Sherlock! You disappeared for three years and—"

"Look John, if I thought you were going to be affected this much and hold it over my head I would have never—"

"Don't say it. Do not say that you would have never come back, because damnit, Sherlock, if I couldn't see your face again knowing how much I love you and how much I will love you—"

"What?"

"What?" John asks back, fully knowing what he just said.

"Did you just say—"

"Yup."

"Well then."

"Uh-huh," John nods his head, "What have you got to say to that, huh? Tell me I'm an idiot. Replay our first night together and tell me you're married to your work and flattered by my interest, because I am, Sherlock. I'm so interested it hurts and it hurt every single day for _three years._"

"John—"

"No, I'm not done. The moment I saw you I was happy, Sherlock. I thought it was a dream because there's no way reality could be that fucking good to me, because it never was before."

"John, listen—"

"Hang on. I just," John sighs. He's calm now and he's trying to maintain the little bit of dignity he has left. He rubs his face with his palm and keeps talking, "I just couldn't keep it in any longer. And it's ok that you don't love me back because at least I'm here, Sherlock. I'm here and you're here and we're together even if it is just as friends and partners in crime and nothing more and—"

"John, for god's sakes, stop talking. I'm trying to tell you that I love you back and you're not giving me a chance."

"You…you do?"

"Of course, you idiot. Why do you think I came back? You think I missed this little flat and Mrs. Hudson that much? No, John. I came back to _you. _It killed me seeing you lost without me. I had to stay away for three years; it was the only way I was going to be promised your safety."

By now Sherlock is up and in front of John. He's so close that John's breathing his breath, John's inhaling the scents radiating from Sherlock's body. Never has he ever thought he could love anyone this much, especially a man. Sherlock never thought he could love anyone besides his Mummy, even the brotherly love for Mycroft ran its course.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock and Sherlock repays the favor. They stand hugging for a few minutes then Sherlock pulls back and kisses John's cheek. It's their first kiss and it's the most intimate thing Sherlock's ever done. John smiles and as he's doing so, he places his hands on the back of Sherlock's head and pulls him close. Their lips meet and it's the greatest feeling John's ever had. It's loving and caring and silent and loud at the same time. John could stand there kissing Sherlock all day, but the fire alarm goes off again and this time Mrs. Hudson rushes though the door.

"Oh, finally!" She squeals and runs back downstairs to call Mrs. Turner because _her _married ones got divorced last week.

Sometimes Sherlock will be out when John goes to bed, and before he can think of doing another thing he texts John to say he loves him, because Sherlock's greatest fear is dying without tell John he loves him…again.

**Couple 3**

Jim has told Sebastian he loves him six times at this point. The first time was after Sebastian killed someone. The second was a month later, the third a month after that, and at this point it's been six months and Sebastian has the cycle down.

But Sebastian hasn't said it back. Because while Sebastian is the best assassin a consulting criminal could ask for, Sebastian has feelings. They're very strong feelings and never has he ever thought Jim could have those feelings, too.

So the seventh time Jim says it, Sebastian acts like he doesn't hear him.

"I love you."

Silence. Sebastian continues cleaning his gun. It's early in the morning and they just got back from a job, Jim's standing in the doorway of the spare room that's used as an office and dipping his tea bag in and out of his mug.

"Did you hear me?"

Sebastian sighs. "Yup."

"Is something wrong?"

Sebastian doesn't look up and asked, "Do you know what that means?"

"What?"

"'I love you'. Do you know what that means?"

"Well, yes of course—"

"Then why do you say it?"

"Because I—"

"No you don't."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"You were going to say you love me. And you don't, I know you don't."

Jim sets his mug down and crosses his arms. "How do you know?"

"Because you're not capable of it. You don't have compassion, you don't have…_feelings_. You hurt people. And you're not capable of love."

"You've changed that about me."

Sebastian looks up at Jim and shakes his head. "Nope."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Because I've seen other men like you, probably worse men than you. And they did not love."

"Look, Seb, I know a lot of people hurt you when you were younger but I'm not—"

"You're not?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, at least not in the ways they did."

"You have, Jim. When we first met. And what's to say you're not still doing it? That I'm not some pawn in your game, that you're not just screwing with me?"

"I have told you that I love you _seven _times. That's more consistent than I've been with a lot in my life. And if you can't and won't believe me then fine, don't. At least I know the truth." Jim picks up his mug and leaves the room.

Sebastian finishes and leaves. He isn't tired anymore and a few more hours won't hurt. The air is cold outside and the sky is gray with clouds and early sunlight. His body aches with lack of sleep but he presses on.

He finds a café that's open early. He orders a coffee and flirts with the barista. His name is Todd and he's about ten years younger than Sebastian. He has dark skin and green eyes, and for once in the past two years he's not thinking about Jim; he's focused on Todd.

Todd says he gets off in two hours and tells Sebastian to come back. Sebastian leaves without any sense of where to go, so he ends up at the park. He watches mothers play with their children, he watches birds fly above him, and he watches owners chase their dogs. He doesn't feel calm like so many would in a park, he feels on edge. And all he can think about is Todd.

Part of him knows it's all wrong. He has Jim at home, and god knows what Jim's doing right now without him. _Probably nothing, _Sebastian thinks. But that's ok, because Todd gets off in ten minutes. He goes back to the café, and after that he and Todd get in Todd's car to go to Todd's house which is just outside the city.

The top's down in Todd's convertible that belongs to his father. Sebastian's driving fast because he likes cars and he hasn't driven since Afghanistan. He takes the turns fast and the straight-aways faster. He's smiling and laughing and Todd's skin is glowing in the sunlight and for a few minutes Sebastian can't take his eyes off of him because Sebastian feels like he's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

And then his vision's gone and he's thinking of Jim again. And everything is cramped and strapped to a board because that's what they do when you flip a car; they strap you to a board. It's a wonder they're both alive, Sebastian hears a paramedic say to another. Sebastian can't open his eyes in fear of his skin ripping off, which is what his face feels like.

And then he doesn't feel anything and all he can see is Jim again. _Jim, _who's gentle and rough and hot and cold and loud and quiet; _Jim, _who's never a happy medium, he's never in between all of this because that's how he is, that's just it; _Jim, _who said I love you and Sebastian wrecked a car over.

Sebastian's ears begin to work before his eyes because he can hear the steady beeping of his heart monitor and the steady shouting of Jim. _Jim. Where's Todd?, _Sebastian thinks for a brief minute, then stops because he can't even remember what Todd looks like. Unless Todd is Jim's clone, because that's all he sees.

Jim's still shouting down the hall and Sebastian's trying to smile because all the commotion is for him. He locates a clock and sees that it's 12 AM. He feels the stitches on his face and his arm is in a cast, but other than that everything seems to be intact. He closes his eyes again and decides to go back to sleep.

Then it's interrupted because Jim's shouting has stopped and instead is replaced by his door being flung open. Sebastian's head jolts out of dream land where he and Jim were at the beach and instead lifts to look at Jim. Jim looks angry and right now he's rough and hot and loud and right next to Sebastian and throwing his arms over the assassin's stomach, because that's _what he does_, he takes initiative and shows the rest who Sebastian belongs to.

"Bloody fucking idiots, Seb, I swear. So we're not married and I can't see you, dammit I'll buy this damn hospital wing and show them who's boss," Jim's head rests in the crease where Sebastian's arm pit starts.

"Jim," Sebastian whispers, his throat burning with lack of moisture. He knows he didn't cheat on Jim and he knows it probably wouldn't make a difference if he had, but he apologizes anyway. "I'm sorry."

Jim lifts his head and gets Sebastian's water off the bedside table. He lifts the straw to Sebastian's lips and lets him suck. "It's ok, I'm glad you're ok."

While Jim's distracted by rearranging the items on Sebastian's bedside table, Sebastian takes Jim's hand, which is still on his stomach, and says, "I love you, too."

Jim pauses before looking up at Sebastian. "Look, Seb, just because you almost died doesn't mean you owe me anything or—"

"No, I'm saying it because while I was almost dead, all I could see is you, you lunatic. And let me tell you, not the funnest site while you're fighting between life and death." Sebastian is nervous and he doesn't know why. He can feel his pulse in his ears and it's really not good for the throbbing wound on his forehead.

Jim looks at and touches the bandage on his head while continuing to hold Sebastian's stomach. It's territorial and intimate and Jim seems like he either wants to re-do all of Sebastian's stitches _himself _or have 'Thank-God-You're-Alive' sex right there on the hospital bed. Jim does neither, instead he looks into Sebastian's eyes as he kisses his tender, cut up lips. Jim's soft and cold and quiet and just right.

Jim rests his head against Sebastian's forehead, then kisses him once more. When he pulls back, his face is back to rough and hot and loud and he's asking, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Sebastian smiles because it's normal, this is their normal, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, to shoot and commit crimes with.

***_Wow. Uhm. I personally feel like this might be my favorite MorMor chapter. I was trying to capture how in an instant, Sebastian just changed and he got it and understood, and that Jim was there and helping and not thinking of himself for a minute and instead yelling at nurses because they wouldn't let him see Sebastian. _**

_***Anyway, I hope everyone had a nice V-Day; I know I did! I love Valentine's Day. **_

_***If anyone has any scenarios pleeeeeeeeeease tell me. I have more ideas but the recent one's I've thought of are dumb things like each couple doing chores and stupid mundane things. However, I think sometime this week I'll do other holidays and celebrations. Keep reading and reviewing and everything! **_


	13. Chapter 13

**Couple 1**

It's quiet. Eerily quiet. Greg tips on his chair and catches himself before he falls. He takes a rubber band out of his pocket and flicks it across the table at Mycroft. He scowls.

"Stop it," Mycroft whisper shouts.

"Sorry, sorry."

Greg tips on his chair again and balances for five seconds, he counted. Next goal: seven.

"Stop it," Mycroft whispers without even looking up.

Greg frowns and looks at the ceiling. He wants to point it out to Mycroft, but Mycroft isn't paying attention to him. He looks at Mycroft. He frowns. He sighs. He places his forehead on the table in front of him. He sighs again.

"Stop it," Mycroft says again.

"Can we go? I'm bored."

"Get a book."

"I don't want to."

"Stop complaining."

"I want to go home."

"You could have brought your laptop."

"Why are we even here? You can read at home."

"It's calm here. However, with you acting like a child you're putting me off more than you are at home."

"Great, then why don't we—"

"No."

The guy down the table shushes them. Mycroft apologizes and glares at Greg. Greg tips his chair back and stares at the ceiling.

Two hours later they're still sitting here. Mycroft's almost finished reading. Greg thanks the heavens that Mycroft's a fast reader. He checks his watch. He sighs loudly.

"Stop it."

"I didn't even do anything."

"I can _feel _you complaining."

"Can we just go?"

"No, I'm not done."

"Why did I have to come?"

Mycroft glares at Greg, silently telling him to be quiet and they'll talk about this later. Greg sits still and counts the seconds, thinking about what he's going to make Mycroft do as payback for dragging him here. Watch football? They do that anyway. Take him to any movie he chooses? Mycroft would probably roll his eyes and say ok. Greg wants to have payback in something _good, _really good.

Half an hour later, Greg's almost asleep against his palm when Mycroft nudges him. Greg wakes and looks up into the face of angry-Mycroft. That's not a good Mycroft. Greg gets up and follows Mycroft.

"That's it!" Mycroft shouts once they're outside. "That is the _last _time I'm bringing you to the library!"

"Oh, thank god!" Greg sighs.

"Why can't we ever do something I want to do? We always do what you want to do, never anything I want!"

"We do things you want to do all the time!"

"Yeah? Going to the store? We did that this morning and that's something you wanted to do."

"That wasn't something I _wanted _to do, Mycroft. That was something _we _needed to do."

"I didn't want to do it."

"Going to the store and sitting at the library for three hours are two very different things. Why was it so important to come here today, anyway?"

"When I was younger, I didn't get to do much for myself or by myself. The only thing I could do alone was go to the library, and that's why I like to come here. But fine, if you really don't want to then don't."

Greg reached out to Mycroft and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Mycroft. I didn't realize it was that important to you."

"Well it is. It's…almost all I've got left."

"No, you've got me," Greg takes Mycroft in a tight hug.

Mycroft isn't one for public displays of affection, but he hugs back. "I haven't got you when you complain about coming to the library for three hours." Mycroft says with a chuckle.

Greg lets Mycroft go and says, "I'm sorry, ok! I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Will you come every week?"

Greg thinks about it. "I guess it won't kill me."

"Great," Mycroft smiles and takes Greg's hand to leave.

Greg doesn't move and gets a sly smile on his face, "As long as you go to that football game with me."

"Really?"

"Yes, one thing I want to do and in return I'll come here with you _every _week."

Mycroft sighs and smiles at Greg, "Fine, I guess I can negotiate."

They walk hand in hand down the street and Mycroft feels like he's not lost everything.

**Couple 2**

"Sherlock? You ready?" John calls down the hall to their bedroom.

"Yeah, just putting my shoes on."

Sherlock comes out of their room and pulls his coat on. John follows him out the door and to a cab. They ride in a comfortable silence.

It's a busy Saturday afternoon and there are a lot of people at the library. But it's important that Sherlock gets this study done tonight, an alibi depends on it.

Sherlock wanders to find the books he needs while John finds them an empty corner. Sherlock always needs absolute silence, sometimes he even sends John away. John finds him the most secluded corner he could find, and sent Sherlock a text with coordinates.

They sit there on the floor while Sherlock finds answers. When he finds one, he tells John exactly what to write down, even though Sherlock knows he can remember it.

After a while Sherlock's legs cramp, so he lays on the floor, head on John's lap, and feet hanging out into the walkway. Sherlock lays that way for a few minutes, then nearly growls with frustration.

"What is it?" John asks.

"I can't think!"

"What can I do?"

"Just…rub my head."

"What?"

"Rub my head, massage my scalp," Sherlock looks up at John and adds a, "Please?" John rubs Sherlock's head. Sherlock lets out a relieved sigh and thinks.

A while later, Sherlock sits up again and keeps reading. He's very pleased that his studies are almost finished.

"Almost done, John."

John looks at his watch. "Really? We've only been here an hour."

"I knew what I was looking for. Easy."

They hear someone coming towards their corner. There's two sets of feet, and instantly Sherlock knows what those two sets of feet are looking to do. _Nobody _hides away in the back of the library to read (well, except John and Sherlock).

"Hurry," Sherlock says, looking at John, "Kiss me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Kiss me."

"Wh-why?"

"Oh for god's sake," Sherlock says, taking John's head in his hands and kissing. The couple rounds the corner to Sherlock and John's spot and Sherlock lets out a light moan.

"Oh," the boy says, "Oh, sorry." He and his girlfriend giggle and walk away.

Sherlock keeps kissing John, even though John tries to pull away. Finally, Sherlock lets go and shouts, "Ah-ha!"

"Ssshh, you can't shout we're in a library!"

"I have figured it out John, I have done it." Sherlock stands and pulls John up.

"You just wanted to kiss me, didn't you?"

"No, I did need your help," Sherlock smiles at John as he pulls his coat on, "I'd be lost without my boyfriend." Sherlock smiles at John and kisses him again.

John laughs as they leave the library. There's never a dull moment with Sherlock, not even in libraries.

**Couple 3**

Sometimes Sebastian disappears without telling Jim where he is. He's allowed to have his privacy, Jim gets that, but Sebastian disappears pretty often.

It's the third week in a row that Sebastian's disappeared, before that it'd been six weeks in a row. Jim decides to follow Sebastian. He waits until Sebastian is a good distance away and follows.

Jim is very surprised to see Sebastian enter the library. He never thought about libraries being a place of Sebastian's interests. Jim sits on the steps and waits in case Sebastian's trip is to be quick.

It's not. Jim waits for half an hour, grows impatient, and goes inside.

He spots Sebastian sitting on a couch between isles of books. He goes over and sits down. Sebastian looks up and gives a friendly smile, like he'd give a stranger, then quickly frowns and sighs when he realizes it's Jim.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian asks.

"I think a better question is, what are _you _doing here?"

"It's a library, what do you think I'm doing here?"

Jim shrugs. "There's got to be something more to this."

"There's not, I assure you," Sebastian glares at Jim, "Why are you so surprised?"

"It's just that…"

"What?"

Jim shrugs again, "I don't know. I never thought you could read."

"Of course I can read!" Sebastian shouts. Someone in the distance shushes him.

"I thought you were—"

"You don't trust me?"

"Of course not."

"It's nine A.M. on a Sunday morning, what else could I be doing?"

"I don't know, that's why I followed you." Jim is silent for a minute, then asks, "Why don't you just read at home?"

"You're too loud."

"I'm too _loud_?"

"Yes, you're loud and annoying and in my face all the time. And always near me. I need my place."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, _sometimes _I don't want you attached to me. Damn Jim, I can't pee without you breathing down my neck."

"You could've just said something," Jim pouts.

"No, I couldn't have. You can't see what you look like right now, but you're pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

"You're pouting because I told you I want my space."

"No I'm not."

Sebastian smiles and pokes Jim's cheek where a dimple would be. "It doesn't mean I want to be away from you, Jim. It's just I don't want to be near you all the time. We live together, we work together, we do everything together. I'm sure you get sick of me."

"Well…"

"You don't have to give examples."

Jim smiles, "All right. I'll give you your space."

"Thank you."

Jim stands to leave. "When will you be home?"

"I don't know, couple of hours?"

"Great. I might have some alone time of my own."

"Might? Well, if I'm not home who are you inviting over?" Sebastian laughs. He goes home two hours later and finds Jim asleep in the bathtub. Sebastian shakes him to wake him up. "You idiot, you can't fall asleep in the bath! I don't know why I leave you alone, you're going to end up dead one day. As a matter of fact, you did."

"Funny. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Glad I didn't take the offer of a lunch date with the librarian and came home instead."

"Funny. She was old, Seb."

"No, the other librarian. The hot one."

"Is that why you go to the library? I knew you couldn't read."

Sebastian smiles and kisses Jim's forehead. "Don't be silly, of course not."

They continue their Sunday alone times, and Jim never kills himself. However, Sebastian does get home one afternoon to find the stove in an open flame (Jim was trying to make grilled cheese).

**_*Thank you for all the kind words and prompts. This was a prompt given by _umqraisntmorsecode _who said, "Libraries!" (with explanation point) and I had to read the word six times to make sure it said library then laughed myself to sleep and couldn't not do this._**

_***Waaaaaay more to come, I've got quite a few prompts (keep them coming!). **_

_***Also, I wanted to say that I'm sorry if you read these stories and can point out punctuation and word errors (be honest, I know there are many, you're not hurting my feelings). I write in the middle of the night and don't proof read, so I'm really sorry! But thanks for reading anyway! **_


	14. Chapter 14

**Couple 1…and 2?**

Well, of course they're together. It's December 25 and it's snowing outside and they're together. "Trapped," as Sherlock keeps saying over and over. They're not trapped, they won't be for long, and Mycroft's on his last nerves.

Greg really doesn't think Sherlock's that bad. Sherlock may annoy the shit out of him, call him names, embarrass him, and insult his boyfriend, but Greg doesn't find him that bad. Not even if it's December 25th and they're trapped.

"Do something, Mycroft." Sherlock says, pacing the living room floor.

"There is absolutely nothing I can do."

"Stop it, or something!"

"Sherlock, you've known since you were four that I don't control the weather."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. John reaches to him to pull him back on the couch but Sherlock violently yanks his hand away.

_At least it's still light outside_, Greg thinks. The power's out and it is quite cold, but at least it's still day time. Hopefully in the next few hours, the snow will stop and they can all go home. Not that he's that bothered. This house is beautiful and it's December 25th and he's with Mycroft and it's snowing, he really isn't that bothered. The only thing that's bothering him is that this is the only room in the house that has a fireplace and it's getting quite cramped.

John suddenly stands and rubs his eyes. "I'm going for a walk," he says, "This room is getting too small and you're driving me mad, Sherlock."

"I'll go with you," Greg says before he can think about what he volunteered to. Sherlock glared at him with the menacing glare Sherlock gets anytime anybody tries to do anything to John. "I'm not going to kidnap him, Sherlock. It's just better to go out with two people."

John shrugs and says, "Won't be gone long."

The two men pull their coats on and step out into the freezing December air. The snow has slowed, but there's still enough on the ground to close the roads, hence why they're 'trapped'. They walk in silence for a few minutes, then John turns to Greg and says, "I'm sorry if Sherlock's driving you mad."

"It's ok. He's not that bad. At least they're not fighting."

"Yeah. And at least we're all safe. Good thing we weren't on the roads when the storm hit."

"Yeah, exactly."

They continue walking in silence. Then John turns to Greg and asks, "So how do you like your first Holmes' family Christmas?"

"It's been a great experience. Lots of people, not what I expected."

"I know I was surprised my first time, too. They have parties like this every year."

"How many have you come to?"

"This is my third, I believe."

"Oh really? So you're used to it."

"Oh, you never get used to the Holmes family."

Greg laughs, "Yeah. I wonder how they're getting along without us."

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Mycroft are both seated in the family room in their childhood home not looking at each other. Every few minutes they exchange glances and one of them cough (they were _both _sick last week (and that was quite the experience)), then they resume the silence.

Finally Sherlock can't stand not talking, so he asks, "What do you think they're doing?"

"Walking. Talking. Like normal human beings."

"Why?"

"Because they're friends?" Mycroft sarcastically replies. Sherlock glares. "What?" Mycroft asks, "John can't have friends?"

"Of course he can." Sherlock snorts.

After a few minutes of silence, Mycroft asks where their mother went. Sherlock snaps, "I don't know."

"Well, you're usually attached to her hip. It's like she's got you on a leash."

"I've gotten better."

"It's about time. You're almost 40 years old," Mycroft chuckles, "But I guess you've got a replacement, right?"

"You are not comparing John to Mother."

Mycroft shrugs, "You are rather attached to that man."

"Yes, because I love him. And he loves me. What is Greg? Just—"

"Greg is my friend and my partner and furthermore, none of your business."

"Do you know he's seeing someone else?"

Mycroft glares at Sherlock, "You know I can tell you're lying?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. He looks out the window searching for Greg and John, but he can't find them. He wants face the storm to go home _now, _but he knows his mother would never let him take a car in this weather.

Meanwhile, John and Greg are circling the property coming back to their start. They've been talking this whole time; it's nice pleasant conversation because they have those conversations when they're not in the presence of one or more Holmes. They talk about football and cars and the dinner they had last night. Then Greg asks about John and Sherlock.

"What about us?" John asks.

"Do you think you'll ever get married?"

John laughs, "Oh no. I doubt it. I'm lucky Sherlock's even in this…relationship-thing."

"That doesn't sound promising."

"It is promising and it is perfect and we'll be lucky not to kill each other by summer," John chuckles, "We are together, yes, but we are flat mates first. And my flat mate drives me up the wall."

"He can't be that bad."

"You want to trade for a week? You've got personal cars and someone that shops for you and a cleaner. I've got the most money consuming, messiest, non-shopper ever."

"I wouldn't trade Mycroft for anything."

"That's sweet, Greg."

"Thanks. And I'll have you know that I've gotten him to take a cab once or twice, and he shops with me now."

"And the cleaner?"

Greg pouts, "He doesn't like the way I do it."

John laughs. He keeps walking, then he asks, "And you? Marriage?"

"No, I don't think so. One failed marriage is enough."

"Not every relationship is destined to fail."

"Yeah, but once you've been divorced it's kind of hard to be confident in a new one. Well, you know that, right?"

John shrugs, "I guess. I think I would take the risk though, given Sherlock wants to, as well."

"Yeah. I don't think I would. Everything's fine as is. Plus, my kids, you know? It was hard enough explaining that he's my boyfriend. Husband might be mind blowing."

"They're ok with it, though?"

"Oh, yeah. They were still young when we explained it all, they still wanted me to catch the monsters under their bed. Kids can accept anything. My ex, however, she was very judgmental and against it."

"I hear you there. At least while Mary thought I was completely in love with Sherlock, we both thought Sherlock was dead," John laughs, "He wasn't really a threat then."

Greg laughs. "What about kids, then? We've got my two daughters, do you think you and Sherlock will ever—"

"Hell no. I'm too old to be taking care of him, I don't need a baby."

"You're not even 44, John. Lots of people have babies at our age."

"Not me, and not Sherlock. Could you imagine? Sherlock and a baby?" John laughs so hard he has to stop walking.

By now they've reached the entrance to the house. Sherlock can see them through the window and can feel his cheeks redden. It's fine, John can have his friend, but it hurts Sherlock when John's so happy with others. He is jealous, he knows that.

"Why don't you just go out there?"

"Too cold."

They watch as Greg walks a few feet ahead of John, gathers snow in his hand, and throws it at John's head. John stumbles back, laughing, and retaliates with a bigger snow ball.

"Sherlock, I can _smell _your jealousy."

"I'm not jealous."

"Then why are you biting your lip like that?"

"I'm," Sherlock closes his eyes and breathes deep, "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm going out there. You sit in here and pout because you're left out."

"I'm not pouting!" Sherlock shouts as he stands and puts his coat on.

Mycroft gets outside and throws a rather large snowball at Greg, who is focused on covering John with snow. Greg stumbles back and looks at Mycroft, then they all begin laughing very loud and hysterically.

Sherlock is not far behind Mycroft, but he doesn't throw a snowball. He just stands in the distance and John doesn't even notice him until Greg nods in Sherlock's direction. John smiles and goes over to him.

"Hey, love, how are you—" he's interrupted by a snowball flying and hitting Sherlock's chest.

"Funny. Childish, too, Greg. I will not take part in this game. John, if you will come inside with me that would be appreciated." Sherlock turns around to leave, but John doesn't follow.

Sherlock walks a few feet before his back is hit with a large snowball. He turns around and all three other men are laughing. He huffs and walks towards the house again, getting a few feet and being hit with a snowball once more. This time, he pauses, doesn't turn around, and keeps walking. The third time he's hit by the largest snowball and when he turns around he can tell it was Mycroft that threw it. Sherlock takes a running start and tackles Mycroft to the ground, sits on his stomach, and grabs snow and shoves it into Mycroft's face and coat.

John and Greg are shocked at first, but when Mycroft keeps laughing they begin to laugh, too. Sherlock grows angry at their laughter; he isn't trying to hurt Mycroft but he's trying to get them to shut up. Mycroft's shouting for Sherlock to, "Get your bony arse off my stomach!" But Sherlock doesn't move. Finally, Mycroft reaches up and slaps Sherlock across the cheek.

Everybody present pauses. John could swear the animals in the forest behind them and the clouds above them pause when that slap is heard. Greg is choking back a laugh, and Sherlock looks stunned.

"Did you just…slap me?" Sherlock asks, dropping the snow he has gripped in his hands.

"Oh god, Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I—"

"I can't believe you just slapped me," Sherlock says, still looking shocked. "Who does _that_?" Sherlock squeaks.

Greg can't hold back any longer, he bursts with laughter and doubles over, hands on his knees. John glances at Greg, then back at Sherlock. Sherlock looks at Greg and a smile grows across his face. Sherlock can't help it, he begins to uncontrollably laugh, too. This gives Mycroft and John permission to laugh. Mycroft's short giggles makes Sherlock laugh even harder, rolling off Mycroft's stomach onto his back in the snow.

They're all laughing so hard they don't notice Sherlock and Mycroft's mother exit the house. "What on earth are you four doing out here? It's freezing!"

"Mother, Mother!" Sherlock shouts, "Mycroft just slapped me!"

"You did what, Mycroft?"

"I didn't mean it, he was sitting on me and throwing snow in my face!"

"So you _slapped _him?"

"It was the first thing I thought to do!"

Their mother covers her face and sighs, "My two children are still children."

This makes the four grown men outside laugh harder, and their mother begins laughing with them. Finally, she pauses in her laughter and tells them what she went out there for, "Oh, boys, the roads cleared."

Sherlock looks at Mycroft, then John, then Greg, and they all exchange glances with each other. "Actually, Mother," Sherlock says, "I think we'll stay another night."

She smiles and returns to the house. It ended up being a delightful December 25th, indeed.

**Couple 3**

Three weeks ago they decided not to do anything for Christmas. Sebastian's sister decided to go to Paris with her new boyfriend, and Jim doesn't have any family anyway. They were going to go on vacation, but they figured travelling right now would be murder (and not the good kind).

So they're sitting in their flat together while outside is silent in the bliss of Christmas Eve. It's snowing, and Jim isn't really one for the snow. Sebastian makes dinner and they eat at the kitchen table, which is new. Sebastian likes Christmas, so he wanted it to be a little bit of a different day and stand out.

In the middle of dinner, the doorbell rings. They both look at each other and wonder who it is, and finally Sebastian gets up and answers the door.

"Sienna, what are you doing here?" Sebastian says. Sienna, who is his sister, is supposed to be on a flight to Paris right now.

"Don't sound too happy to see me, Seb, really!" She hugs him tight and kisses his cheek, "My flight was cancelled." She says as she enters their flat.

He closes the door, still shocked, and follows her into the living room. "I'm just surprised to see you, that's all."

"Geez, big brother! No Christmas decorations, and you love Christmas!"

"You never told me that," Jim says from the doorway to the kitchen.

"It never really came up," Sebastian mumbles.

"Jim, darling, how are you?" Sienna asks, taking Jim in a tight embrace.

"I'm great, how have you been, dear?"

To Sienna, Jim is Sebastian's super-gay boyfriend. She thinks he's an artist (he's a pretty good painter, actually) that got a break and helped them afford this flat.

They have dinner and Sienna tells them all about her new boyfriend, Fredrick, who couldn't make it because he's _super _busy.

"How did he become busy if you're supposed to be on vacation? Shouldn't his schedule be free?"

"Well, you would think. But he's just so in demand these days."

Throughout dinner she gives information about Fredrick, and it doesn't take any sort of genius to see this guy is not genuine. Some things Sienna says about him are just so off the wall that he has to be chatting her up for _one_ reason. Sebastian does not like him.

The snow gets so bad that Sienna has to spend the night. Sebastian gives her pants and a shirt, they get her settled on the sofa bed, and they reside to their room.

"I don't like that guy," Sebastian says, pulling his side of the covers back.

"You've never even met him."

"He sounds like rubbish."

"Don't judge someone—"

"Who are you to talk? You killed someone last week because he wife wanted to run away with his brother."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"I just know he's scum," Sebastian says, pulling his blankets over him.

"Don't worry about it. Your sister's smart enough to see."

"Yeah, but she's dumb enough to not care."

"Give her more credit."

"When she was nineteen, she ran away with a child pornography distributer."

"That was seven years ago, I'm sure she's grown," Jim says, wrapping his arm around Sebastian's waist and pulling him closer, "Besides, you live with a criminal."

"Yeah, but I _am _a criminal. She's just a little girl."

"She's 26."

"She's a baby."

Jim laughs, "You can't protect her forever."

"Yes I bloody well can."

"If it makes you feel better, I can get my best man on it to kill him," Jim says, biting at Sebastian's ear.

Sebastian smiles, "That would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Isn't it always?"

The next morning Jim wakes Sebastian up as the sun is rising. After many, many pleas to, "Get the fuck out of my face, Jim.", Jim wins and Sebastian wakes up.

"Alright, alright. What is it?" Sebastian asks, sitting up against the headboard.

"I got you something."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's Christmas, and for some reason you really like Christmas—"

"Oh, no way? I didn't know we were exchanging gifts."

"It's ok, Seb., you didn't have to—"

"I'm just kidding, you clot," Sebastian reaches under the bed and pulls out a box, "It's right here."

Jim loves gifts. Christmas he could do without. Gifts he loves.

Sebastian tells him to open his first. Jim does not hesitate, and he's very pleased to find a new scarf. It's green and soft and he loves it. Sebastian opens his large box to find a new coat. It's a black pea coat, the same one Sebastian had been eyeing for weeks. Sebastian slips it on and smiles at the nice fit. He kisses Sebastian and says thank you.

They go into the living room and Sebastian sits on Sienna to wake her up. When she's up Sebastian gives her a gift and they have breakfast.

For the rest of the day, they lounge around and avoid annoying Christmas movies on TV. They talk and laugh and they enjoy the company of the others. Sebastian's very happy to have Sienna around because he needs a little bit of family to keep going. He loves his baby sister and they get along great. That is, until Sebastian starts telling her to not date Fredrick anymore. Then the fight breaks out about, "You don't even know him!" and, "I know enough!" and, "You don't know nice guys like him!" and, "I _was _'nice' guys like him!"

Jim sat back and watched, but finally the fight ended and they hugged and it felt like Christmas.

Jim thinks maybe next Christmas, him, Sebastian, and Sienna can all take vacation together

Without Fredrick, of course.

_***So, here's a little (long) thing with holidays, future family plans, families, and general Sebastian cuteness (sorry I really love him). I don't know why I named his sister Sienna, I wanted to name her Ariel but my sister called me a loser.**_

**_*Also, you might be like 'Wtf why is sherlock so old?' Well, I assume Sherlock's 35 or so during Reichenbach, and if he was gone for three years and this is John's third Christmas there, then it should be like 6 years later. so he'd be like 41. And John would be 43. _**


	15. Chapter 15

**Couple 1 and 2, again.**

Mycroft doesn't get sick.

Greg begs to differ when it's December 14th and Mycroft wakes him up three times with coughing. The third time around, Greg tells Mycroft he's seeing a doctor tomorrow.

"Nonsense, I haven't seen a doctor since 1999."

"Dear lord."

"I hate going to doctor's offices."

"Too bad, you're going tomorrow. Drink your tea."

"Lucky for me, I've got a doctor on speed dial."

"You just said you haven't seen a doctor since—" Greg pauses, "Oh, right." Greg sighs, "Mycroft, you can't call John to diagnose you here. Go to the clinic."

"Ha!" Mycroft snorts, "John can come here."

"He's not going to."

"He will if I threaten to throw his boyfriend in prison."

"For what?"

"What doesn't Sherlock belong in prison for?"

Greg shrugs, "True. Fine, we're calling John first thing in the morning. If he protests we're going to his office. _No _putting Sherlock in prison, he's actually helpful sometimes." Greg turns over to go back to sleep. After a minute he asks, "Is John really on your speed dial?" Mycroft just laughs.

The next morning, Greg calls John because Mycroft's throat is very much not working, unless coughing counts. Not that Mycroft can be understood anyway with his nose as plugged as it is.

"Hello?"

"Hey, John. How's it going?"

"Oh, it's going. How about you?"

"Well, actually," Greg takes a deep breath, obviously embarrassed by the favor he's about to ask, "Mycroft is sick."

"No way?" John asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, he got sick yesterday—"

"And here I thought the Holmes boys never get sick."

Greg takes a pause to think about what John means. He catches on, "You mean…Sherlock's sick, too?"

"Yup. Came down with something last night."

"Unbelievable."

"What a coincidence. So, you want me to pop in and take a look?"

"Could you?"

"Sure," John thinks for a minute, then proposes, "Actually, you know what's a great idea? To contain the germs, let's put them up together here or there, and you and I will stay here or there, away from them."

Greg laughs, "You think that's a good idea?"

"Of course! They won't, but it's a great idea. My mum used to send my dad and Harry away when I was sick, and vice versa. It'll be fine!"

It was not fine with either Holmes.

"You're not really leaving me at Mycroft's for the week, are you?" Sherlock questions as John packs his suitcase.

"It's logical. I can't get sick, and Greg can't get sick."

"No, John, please!"

"What's the problem?"

Sherlock sniffles and wipes his nose across his sleeve, then reaches to hug John.

"No, no, don't touch me. I can feel the germs crawling up your arm," John says.

Sherlock looks at John with sad eyes. "I'll miss you, John." He says, which really sounds like, "I'll miss you, Joh-d." with his stuffy nose.

John chokes back a laugh, "I'm sure you'll be ok."

Across town, Mycroft doesn't have enough energy or throat power to properly yell at Greg, so he lays with his back to Greg as Greg packs his own suitcase.

"Just for a few days."

Mycroft huffs.

"You won't even know I'm gone."

Mycroft whimpers.

"You'll have Sherlock keep you company."

Mycroft _growls. _

"Maybe once you're healthy we can take a holiday."

Mycroft hums.

"And if you're good to Sherlock, I'll have to reward you."

Mycroft moans.

Greg presses a kiss to the back of his head, then they hear the doorbell ring. Greg goes to answer it, leaving Mycroft in their bed.

"Hey guys," Mycroft hears Greg say.

"Hey Greg, you ready?" John asks.

"Yeah, let me just grab my case. Uh, Sherlock, you can go get settled in the guest room, alright?" Mycroft sees Greg's shadow returning to their bedroom. "I'm leaving now, ok?" Greg says to Mycroft in a reassuring voice. "I love you," he says, hovering over Mycroft. "Get healthy, ok? I left medicine right here on the nightstand, and there's plenty of juice, water, and tea in the kitchen. If you're hungry eat anything, ok? Just get something in your stomach."

Mycroft wants to tell Greg to shut up because he's a grown man and can take care of himself, and that it was probably Greg's fault he's sick because he never got sick before Greg came along, but that's not good, is it? So instead Mycroft nods and rolls his eyes only once, then lightly smiles and tucks himself further under their comforter.

"I'll miss you. If you need me, you can call me. Just a few days ago, two at min. three at max." Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek and leaves.

In the guest room, John and Sherlock are arguing about the arrangement.

"This is stupid, John. I don't want to stay here, I want to get well at home."

"I can't get sick, Sherlock. I'm really sorry but work is swamped right now. Everyone in London is sick, and it's up to me to take care of all of them."

Sherlock huffs and turns away, "You can't even take care of your own boyfriend, how can you—"

John grabs Sherlock's wrist and turns Sherlock's front to him again. "Do not say I can't take care of you, Sherlock. I can't get sick."

"So you've said. If you can't get sick, get me better."

John rubs his face, "I'm doing my best, ok? Here's all of your medicine. Take the correct doses, Sherlock, I absolutely mean it. Mycroft will be watching, and so help me if I hear you've taken more than the correct dose I will leave, Sherlock." John takes Sherlock's addiction very seriously, even if he is giving Sherlock medications right now.

"What's the point? You obviously don't love me—"

John's grip on Sherlock's wrist tightens, "Stop it, please." John's hand slips around Sherlock's waist as he unbuttons Sherlock's jacket and begins pulling it off. "Change into your pajamas so you can go to sleep. You need to rest, I mean it."

"Ok, John."

"And drink a lot of juice, ok?"

"Ok, John."

"And take your medicine. We don't want this coming back, ok?"

"Ok, John."

"And—"

"John, ok! I'm a grown man!"

"Ok, alright. I'm sorry, I just feel really bad."

"Then take me home."

John's eyes flicker and Sherlock thinks he can see extra moisture: tears. John doesn't cry, Sherlock gets that he feels awful about this. Sherlock doesn't do well with crying things, especially not John's. Sherlock wraps his arms now bare arms around John's neck and holds him tight.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. Please understand."

"Ok, John. I'll try. But if Mycroft is an ass then I'm going home on my own."

John laughs against Sherlock's chest. Greg appears in the doorway and asks John if he's ready. He looks up at Sherlock, Sherlock nods, kisses his forehead, and John leaves. Sherlock rummages through his suitcase for pajamas; a pair of John's sweat pants (too short, but he happily wears them) and John's old t-shirt (a little bit wide, but the softest and best scented material Sherlock's ever felt).

Sherlock takes a nap for two hours and when he wakes Mycroft is watching TV. Mycroft looks up and nods at Sherlock. Sherlock waves a hand and sits next to Mycroft on the couch. Mycroft picks the blanket up that's folded next to him and slams it against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock half laughs and wraps himself up.

John and Greg order pizza for dinner. John considers cooking like a good host, but Greg insists he buy them pizza. After pizza they watch TV, a program they both agree on and can talk about. John and Greg get along great and can talk about anything, provided they're not at a crime scene and Sherlock's not driving Greg crazy. They have a nice evening and later they reside to their bedrooms.

Sherlock and Mycroft go to their rooms after a late dinner (medicine and crackers). Sherlock calls John and informs him that he and Mycroft haven't killed each other, however John's still not forgiven for leaving him here.

"All right, Sherlock. Not long now."

"And I won't enjoy any moment of it."

"I don't care if you enjoy it, it's not a holiday."

"Don't you miss me, John?"

"Yes, but two days at Mycroft's is nothing compared to three years dead."

"John!" Sherlock squeals, "Stop it! You make me feel worse and worse each time!"

"Good."

"Stop holding it over my head!"

John laughs, "Ok, ok. I'm sorry. Listen, I love you, ok? And I just want you to get healthy."

"Ok. I love you, too."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Sleep well, John."

Mycroft still can't talk, so he sends Greg a text saying he hasn't killed Sherlock yet.

**From: Greg Lestrade 9:38 PM**

_Good. Don't kill him, he's good for John. Get some sleep, Mycroft._

**To: Greg Lestrade 9:40 PM**

_Can't. Empty bed._

**From: Greg Lestrade 9:43 PM**

_Take more Nyquil._

**To: Greg Lestrade 9:44 PM**

_Funny. Goodnight, Greg._

**From: Greg Lestrade 9:45 PM**

_Goodnight, Mycroft. _

**From: Greg Lestrade 9:45 PM**

_I love you._

**To: Greg Lestrade 9:47 PM**

_I love you, too._

Sherlock wakes up the next morning before Mycroft. He feels considerably better, that is until he sits up and a rush of pressure invades his head. He falls back onto the pillow and decides it's not worth leaving his bed today.

Mycroft wakes up half an hour later and feels a lot better. His throat still hurts, but he can talk again. Well, he can whisper. His body aches but his head feels better. He goes to the living room and Sherlock isn't there. Mycroft feels he'd better check on his brother to make sure he didn't overdose. Luckily he didn't, but Sherlock was laying straight on his back with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft whispers.

"Mycroft, good you're here. Don't be alarmed, but I can't lift my head. If you would be so kind as to hand me two of those magic pink pills John left, that'd be splendid."

Mycroft hands Sherlock the pills and Sherlock swallows them dry. "Are you all right?" He asks.

"Oh, yeah, hopefully."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Besides my head, yeah. You?"

"Yeah, much better."

"Maybe I can go home today."

"I doubt they'd let you."

"Yeah. Those men are evil."

Mycroft laughs. He goes to the kitchen to get tea, then returns and sits in Sherlock's bed. Sherlock doesn't question, questioning would take too much energy. He laid still and let his brother warm the other half of the bed.

"You should to get a TV in here." Sherlock suggests.

Mycroft looks at Sherlock. "Sherlock, it's in that cabinet."

"It is?"

"Yes, what did you think?"

"I obviously thought there wasn't one."

Mycroft laughs, gets up, opens the cabinet, and turns the TV on. He flips a few channels and pauses at Pinocchio. He and Sherlock watch silently for the rest of the movie, and at the end they both say, "Why did Mother make us watch that so often as children?" and "Why did we like that movie so much?"

"You should have known it was weird, you're older." Sherlock says.

"Yeah, but you're the baby and I had to watch what you wanted."

After that they watched TV in Sherlock's bed between naps and cups of juice all day.

Greg and John both go to work and do not bother their Holmes boys. They do not want to hear complaining or begging to take Sherlock home, they want peace and quiet to wallow in self guilt of leaving their significant others alone while they're sick.

By dinner, they're both back at 221B and ordered Chinese food. Greg cleans up, which John doesn't mind, and John chooses the TV program, which Greg doesn't mind. They don't talk much; they sit in a comfortable silence waiting for one of their sweeties called.

When neither call, they grow alarmed. They haven't heard from Sherlock or Mycroft all day. "Hopefully they're resting," John says. "Yeah, hopefully they're not dead," Greg says.

Greg decides to call Mycroft first. Mycroft answers after four rings, which Greg doesn't take as a good sign.

"Hello?" Mycroft groggily answers.

"Hey, how's it going over there? Haven't heard from you two all day."

"We've been resting."

"Oh, good. Gotten much sleep?"

"Yes, except Sherlock hogs the blankets."

"Wait…Sherlock…what?"

"You heard me."

Greg glances at John to make sure John's listening, "You and Sherlock are in the same bed?"

Greg can hear Mycroft roll his eyes, "Don't make this more than it is."

"How cure, Mycroft." Greg chuckles.

"I can hear John laughing. Stop it."

"Can you send us a photo?"

"Shut up."

"Did you two cuddle?"

"Shut up."

"Did you cuddle with your baby brother, Mycroft?" Greg asks in a baby-voice.

"I'm hanging up now."

Greg laughs, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Mycroft hangs up.

The next day, Mycroft wakes up and makes them both toast. Sherlock wakes up and can lift his head, so he joins Mycroft in the kitchen. They eat, take their medicine, take showers, and retreat to the couch to watch more TV.

John calls Sherlock while Mycroft's in the shower and asks how he's doing, say he's going to go over to check on Sherlock. Sherlock hesitantly says there's really no hurry, that he doesn't have to go home if John doesn't trust it.

"Sherlock Holmes," John says, "Are you enjoying your brother's house?"

"Shut up."

After work, John stops by as promised. There are no more fevers and throats are only a little bit sore. Heads are clear and noses are only a little bit runny. John knows the infection won't be coming back or spreading, so he says Sherlock can come home. John phones Greg to let him know. Greg packs and heads home.

The four men sit in Mycroft's flat in silence. Sherlock's eyeing the door, eager to leave, and Mycroft's eyeing Sherlock, eager for him to stop being so eager.

"Well, Sherlock," John says, standing, "It's getting cold out, are you ready to go home?"

Sherlock practically jumps out of his seat and grabs his suitcase. "Ready when you are."

Mycroft slowly stands and John sees the look of sadness on his face. John inwardly questions if Mycroft actually enjoyed Sherlock's company. _Probably not, _John adds in his head.

"Well, thank you John. You cured me without even being here." Mycroft says.

"Thanks for everything, John." Greg adds.

"It really wasn't anything. Thanks for keeping him, Mycroft." John says.

"Yes. Thanks for…staying, Sherlock." Mycroft hesitantly says.

Sherlock pauses, obviously stunned. He turns to Mycroft with wide eyes. "I, uh, thank you, Mycroft."

Greg catches the exchange and as John and Sherlock are walking down the hall, he calls after them, "Hey, are you guys free for Thursday? Let's get together."

Sherlock turns around, glances at John, then back to Mycroft. "Sure. Thursday's fine."

"Great." Greg says, smiling at Mycroft.

The peace lasts until Thursday, when Sherlock and Mycroft have a debate during dinner. Greg and John give up trying to stop them, after a while they sit back and laugh. Secretly, they both wish for another sick weekend in the future.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian does not get sick. No, really. He may have had the stomach flu when he was twelve, but since then he hasn't been sick. He prides himself in his miraculous immune system.

Jim, however, has a terrible immune system. He's on so many vitamins that Sebastian doesn't even know what half of them are for. But somehow, germs make their way into that Moriarty body and spread like wildfire. It also makes Jim extra whiney.

Which is how they wake up one December morning (germy, not in a wildfire).

"Seb," Jim whispers.

"You smell sick."

"How do I smell sick?"

"You just do."

Jim doesn't have enough energy to tell him how absurd that is.

"What's wrong, then?" Sebastian asks without opening his eyes. Opening his eyes means it's morning, he's not ready to give up the night yet.

"Don't feel well."

"How? Be specific."

Jim sniffles and lets out a little cough, then says, "I'm cold, Seb."

Sebastian lifts his arm and lets Jim press against his chest. "Geez, you're burning up."

"Sorry."

"It's ok. Do you want me to go get you anything?" Another thing about Jim being sick is that Jim is just so damn helpless, Sebastian loves it. Jim's finally vulnerable and small and physically weak, and it's Sebastian's job to take care of him for once.

"No, don't move."

They lay in the bed until Sebastian's sweating. He tucks Jim under the comforter and gets Jim juice and medicine. Sebastian stands at his side of the bed and coaxes Jim out of the blankets.

"Here, drink and take."

"Thank you." Jim says, giving Sebastian a weak smile. Once he sets the glass down, he presses his face to Sebastian's stomach. "Oooh, cold." He shifts his face to press the other cheek against Sebastian.

Sebastian stands there and lets him, running his fingers through Jim's hair. "Hey, you want to take a bath?" Sebastian asks. Jim nods. Sebastian leaves to run the bath water, warm but not too hot. He gets Jim out of the bed and into the bathroom, where it's warm and steamy. He undresses Jim and guides him to the bath. "Do you want anything else?"

"No, thank you. Just stay in here, ok?"

Sebastian sits on the floor, back against the tub. Jim's hand strokes his hair as Jim lightly dozes in the warm. Sebastian realizes it might not be the best for a fever, but what does he know (nothing)?

Once Jim's out, Sebastian wraps him up and gets him into the kitchen where they eat breakfast. It's lunchtime now, but Jim's stomach feels weak, too, so they settle on toast.

Sebastian gets Jim to take a nap and rather than doing anything he has planned, Sebastian lays in bed with Jim and watches TV. Sebastian lays on his back and lets Jim rest on his chest. Sebastian smiles the whole time.

When Jim wakes up it's dinnertime, but he's not hungry. Sebastian makes a plate of leftovers (noodles, a few pieces of chicken, garlic bread (he really doesn't care)), and convinces Jim to let him feed him noodles. Jim sits on the couch facing Sebastian, holding his mouth open and trying not to cough. Every few minutes he does he need to cough and he very considerately doesn't cough in Sebastian's face. Sebastian continues feeding him noodles between feeding himself noodles.

They go to bed early because Jim's head starts to hurt and he wants Sebastian in bed with him. They snuggle up next to each other, even though Sebastian's really hot. Jim falls asleep instantly because Sebastian made him take extra (not much extra) night time cold medicine. Sebastian squeezes him to make sure he's asleep, then starts to talk.

"You know, I kind of like when you're sick. You're so not you. Not to say I want to change you, or anything. But today you're gentle and cold and quiet, and I just like it." Sebastian smiles against Jim's forehead, "I like to be the one in charge, the one telling you to take your medicine and eat your noodles. It's like I'm," Sebastian stops himself, then continues, "No, I can't say that. I can't say that I feel like I'm your caretaker. Sometimes that's just who I am, though, you know? I took care of my sister for so long. Sometimes I don't feel like you need me, that's all. Sometimes I don't feel appreciated. Sometimes I feel so," Sebastian takes a deep breath, a pain in his chest building, "I feel replaceable. But you'd never replace me, right?"

Sebastian feels Jim tighten around him. Jim breathes deep against his chin. "You're not replaceable." Jim softly says.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Since you began your speech."

Sebastian chuckles against Jim's forehead. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's ok." Jim hugs Sebastian tighter.

"Go to sleep, ok?"

"You too."

They lay silent for a few minutes, and Sebastian thinks Jim's asleep. That is, until Jim takes a deep breath and lets out, "I love you."

Sebastian smiles and says, "I love you, too."

They sleep in peace, but the next day Jim's well again and Sebastian wishes he'd just be sick another day, _please just one more day of quiet._ He has no such luck because Jim gets him up to see an early client.

_Oh well, _Sebastian thinks as he showers, _nice while it lasted._

_***I wrote this because I was sick this weekend and I am always sick and I hate it. And it's really long, I'm sorry, but I had a lot of time on my hands because I just watched Star Trek twice in a row. I wasn't going to write at all but reviews make my self esteem higher (yes I seek approval from people I've never met, but that's ok, right?). Hope you all enjoy ** _


	16. Chapter 16

**Couple 1**

There is a wide range of things Mycroft does not do. This list includes but is not limited to:

Get sick (ha! Greg begs to differ)

Cook (even though he's great at it)

Clean (apart from general tidying up)

Shop (yes he does, and sometimes he likes it)

Drive (he does know how)

Take cabs (once or twice)

Get drunk (ha! Greg begs to differ)

Greg doesn't really have anything he doesn't do. There's much he can't do, like cook, but there's not much he won't do.

Which is why they're at a bar on Greg's birthday taking shots.

"Come on, Mycroft, just one."

"No." Mycroft says, sipping his soda.

"It'll be fun."

"It will not."

Greg glares at Mycroft, "Fine. More for me." Greg downs his shot and winces at the burn. He smiles at Mycroft and leans in for a kiss.

"No, you smell." Mycroft says.

"You're mean." Mycroft pouts.

Two hours later, Greg is pretty far under the table with two of his friends and John trailing not far behind. John keeps staring at Mycroft and giggling, and Mycroft stares at John questioningly.

What Mycroft does not know John knows is that Mycroft has been drinking gin and cokes all night. John finds this very funny because Mycroft has been protesting alcohol so much. Greg, John, and the two others take another shot and after a while more, Greg's gone.

An hour later, Mycroft's trying to pull him into a car. Trying but not succeeding because Mycroft is also tripping over his own feet. The other men are no help, and John's behind the pack laughing because Mycroft is _so _drunk.

Mycroft gets Greg home and into their bed.

"Lift," Mycroft says, patting his thigh for Greg to place his foot there. He slowly unties Greg's shoe and pulls it off his foot. He begins to feel dizzy, he knows he needs to sit down. He pulls of Greg's other show without untying it.

"I had a great time, tonight." Greg says, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Good."

"Even though you're boring?"

Mycroft squeezes his eyes shut while trying to stand and toe his own shoes off. "Me? Boring?"

"You wouldn't even drink!" Greg says, pulling his shirt off.

"Sorry." Mycroft quickly sits and stops the room from spinning. He manages to get his tie and belt off and lays on his pillow. Greg presses against his back and nuzzles the back of his neck.

"Are you going to sleep?" Greg asks.

"Probably." Mycroft feels warm and his stomach turns. He pushes it away and closes his eyes.

"I'm not tired." Greg says, rolling onto his back. He bounces a little bit. "Have you ever notices how springy our bed is?" He asks, bouncing again.

"Yeah, I have." Mycroft says, unbuttoning his shirt. He feels too warm for comfort.

"I want to jump, Mycroft."

"Please don't."

"Come on, please."

"No."

"I'll do it anyway. I'm a grown man." Greg jumps up and stands on the bed.

"Please lay down."

"Make me." Greg says, standing with either leg on each side of Mycroft's hips, hands on his own hips.

Mycroft takes hold of Greg's ankles to still him. His eyes are still closed and he pulls at Greg to make him lay down. Greg, to Mycroft's much misfortune, sits on Mycroft's stomach and lets down all of his weight.

"Off, off!" Mycroft shouts, pushing Greg off of him. He runs to the bathroom and lets out the contents of his stomach.

Greg stands in the doorway and watches Mycroft.

"I knew it." He says, once Mycroft is finished.

"Knew what?"

"That you are drunk."

"You didn't know."

"I did, Mister Holmes."

"How?"

"I'm skilled at my job," he lets Mycroft run the water of the sink before saying, "And John told me."

"Damn him." Mycroft says through tooth paste foam.

"Why didn't you just…let me know?"

"It's embarrassing."

Greg laughs, "It's not embarrassing! It's not like you're doing anything crazy."

"Thanks," Mycroft says, pushing past Greg to go back to bed.

Ten minutes later, they're laying against each other in bed trying to go to sleep.

"Greg." Mycroft whispers.

"What?"

"Do you think the pirate ship will take me with them?"

"What pirate ship?"

"The one in space."

"Yeah, I bet it'll take you."

"Good."

Five minutes later.

"Mycroft."

"What?"

"I want to go on the pirate ship, too."

"You can't."

"Why?"

"Everyone has brown hair."

"Hey!"

"Get the next ship."

"Oh, ok."

Greg dozes for a few minutes until Mycroft says, "Greg."

"Yes?"

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" he asks, pressing his behind against Greg's front.

"Yeah. Kind of. Go to sleep."

The two begin snoring within the next ten minutes. The next morning, Greg wakes up with a headache and stays in bed all day, but Mycroft is perfectly fine. Greg scowls and shoots angry looks at Mycroft, Mycroft laughs and rubs Greg's head.

They don't really drink much, but each time from now on Greg will like to remind Mycroft of that time he threw up due to alcohol. Mycroft does not think it's funny and vows to never drink again (he vows each time).

**Couple 2**

John gets a cab home after he watches Mycroft stumble into the car after Greg. He rests against the window and smiles at the sky. When he gets home, he has trouble unlocking the door. He finally gets in and gets up the stairs. Sherlock's in the kitchen and John's throws himself against the kitchen doorway.

"Hey there, sexy." John says in a playful voice.

"John?" Sherlock sighs, "John, are you drunk?"

"Why yes, yes I am." He makes his way to the table and hovers over Sherlock.

"John, you know I don't like—"

"Ssshh," John presses his finger against Sherlock's lip, "Don't speak." He leans in to Sherlock and tries to kiss him. Sherlock moves and John kisses his cheek.

"Ugh, you reek."

"I am the smell of happiness."

"Happiness? Are you sure you're not the alcoholic of the Watson family?"

"Funny, Sherlock, but if you try it once in a while you might enjoy it."

"I have tried it and I didn't enjoy it."

"You didn't enjoy it?"

"Enjoy what?"

"Being drunk."

"Ha! No. Worst experience of my life. And I've been to rehab."

"What happened?" John asked, slumping against the kitchen table.

"I was fifteen and curious. Mycroft bought me whatever I wanted to try and let me drink whatever I wanted. I threw up all night and had a hangover for two days. However, it has provided a lot of useful data for future references."

John giggles, "I want to see you drunk." He circles the tip of Sherlock's nose with his finger.

"Why?"

"I'm sure you get entertaining?"

"Am I not entertaining now?"

"What? Who said that?"

Sherlock laughs, "Maybe one day, John. If you play your cards right." He leans back away from the table and eyes John seductively.

"Are you taking advantage of me?"

"I'm just trying to be entertaining."

'One day' of seeing Sherlock drunk was the very next day, as a matter of fact. John was ready to go (John is too stoic to get hangovers). He was fully equipped with vodka, scotch, and gin (he didn't know what Sherlock would drink).

They started at 8 PM. Shots were taken and mixed drinks were made. Sherlock instructed John how to exactly make everything (of course he knows all about this) and drank everything John gave him.

Around 12, they were slumped over each other on the couch in silence.

"Are you ok?" John asks.

"Of course."

"Do you need to throw up?"

"I'm not fifteen anymore."

"You just haven't done this is in a long time."

"I'm fine."

"You want to play a game?"

"What game?"

"Cards?"

"Get them." Sherlock sits up and shakes the dizziness away from his eyes. He sits on the floor and finishes the last bit of his drink. When John sits, Sherlock falls against him and rests his head on John's lap.

"You all right?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm good, it's just," he nudges Sherlock's head.

"Oh, th-orry."

Sherlock sits up as quickly as he can and covers his mouth. John stares wide eyed and in awe.

"Did you just—"

"Th-th-" he gives up trying to say 'stop' and instead says, "Don't."

"Sherlock, are you—"

"Don't."

"I didn't know you—"

"I don't."

"You just—"

"I u-th-ed to. Dammit!"

"Sherlock—"

"Plea-the."

A small grin peaks across John's face. He chuckles a bit and Sherlock shoots him a menacing look.

"Sorry, I won't laugh." John's face goes straight and he looks at Sherlock. "I have an idea. Let's play Go-Fish, and each time one of us gets a pair, we get to ask a question."

Sherlock, in his impaired mind, shouts, "Ok!"

John wins the first pair. "Ok, Sherlock, how old were you when you broke your left arm the first time?"

"Th-even." Sherlock pauses and blinks heavily at John. "Damn you."

John smiles. Sherlock can't quite grasp the concept of this game that he agreed to, so John continues winning pairs.

"What was your third pet growing up?"

"Th-nake. Arrgh!" He shouts in frustration and almost throws his cards.

The game continues and John asks Sherlock questions and gets answers like:

"What's my last name, Sherlock?"

"Wat-thon. Crap!"

"What's _your _last name, Sherlock?"

"Holme-th. Oh man!"

"What do Americans call football?"

"Th-occer. Ugh, I don't even care for that answer!"

"What's your website called?"

"Thien-the of Deduction. Th-top it, John!"

"What do I like to call you first think in the morning?"

"Th-weetie. Th-eriou-thly, th-top it! You're being mean!"

John stops for a few questions, but once he begins again, Sherlock sighs and gives in. He says whatever John wants him to say and answers all of John's questions. John laughs at Sherlock's lisp and kisses his lips.

"It's just so funny, Sherlock. I didn't know you have a lisp."

"I don't have a li-thp. I _had _a li-thp. My mother paid good money to help me get rid of it when I wa-th a kid."

"It's incredibly adorable, Sherlock."

"It i-th not."

"I love it. Can I get you drunk more to hear it?"

"No. Ab-tholutely not."

They argue about the lisp for another half an hour, finally Sherlock gives up again and drunkenly lisps anything John wants. When they go to bed, John's laughing so hard he needs Sherlock to shut up before he can peacefully go to sleep.

"Sherlock, one more."

Sherlock sighs as he closes his eyes to drift to sleep, "What?"

"Say, 'Goodnight sweetie'."

"Goodnight, th-weetie."

John decides they need another drinking night again two months later. Sherlock works hard to avoid S's.

He doesn't th-uc-theed.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian drinks.

A lot.

Sebastian drinks his feelings away.

Which is a bit not good.

Sebastian began drinking his feelings away when he was thirteen.

Sebastian got in trouble for drinking and his father said he was going to the military once he's of age.

Sebastian goes into the military and stays sober for a long time. He likes it, he knows this is what he needs to straighten out (oh how wrong he is).

He gets shipped back to England and drinks that night.

He drinks to get past his encounters with James Moriarty.

He drinks in celebration after he's killed someone.

He drinks and punches Jim (it was years ago, they don't worry about it much now).

Jim knows Sebastian has a problem. He knows he should be concerned but Sebastian's a grown man and will know when he needs to stop.

Nope.

Sebastian doesn't know.

But Jim doesn't know when to step in. They've known each other a year and a half, they've recently began seeing each other on a romantic level and not a 'Jim's hurting Sebastian' level. Jim doesn't know if it's his place to step in.

But when Sebastian's got nobody else, Jim knows it's his place to step in.

Sebastian gets violent. He claims he doesn't have a problem and shoves Jim out of the way. Jim tries to step in front of him again and gets a left hook to the jaw.

Jim waits three weeks and watches it get worse, if it can even get any worse. Sebastian stops thinking of good things to get him through the day and instead focuses on the bad; his past, his present, what he might have of a future. Jim watches him drink himself into a coma each night and do nothing the next day. Sebastian feels worthless and Jim can't help.

Jim calls Sienna and begs her to come see Sebastian. He tells her everything that's going on and Sienna cries. Jim doesn't like to see Sienna cry, he knows less how to comfort her than Sebastian. She comes the next day and waits with Jim for Sebastian to come home.

Sebastian is drunk and angry when he gets home. He sees Sienna and angrily eyes Jim.

"What are you doing here?" he asks her.

"I…Jim called."

He eyes Jim again. "Why?"

"We're concerned, Seb." Sienna says, pulling Sebastian's sleeve to guide him to the couch. He doesn't move. Sienna begins to cry. Sebastian can't stand seeing her cry. He places his arm around her waist and hesitantly hugs her. "Seb, it's just that…" Sienna sniffles and looks Sebastian in the eye, "When you drink, no matter that I don't see it often…it reminds me of dad. And I don't—" she can't finish her sentence because she begins to cry.

That breaks Sebastian. The memory of their father and being compared to him is too much for Sebastian. He hugs Sienna and whispers things like, "It's done, it's over."

The next day, Jim and Sienna take Sebastian to a rehab facility. They leave him there and Sienna cries the whole way home. Jim offers encouraging words but doesn't know how to console her.

Sebastian gets sober and goes home. Jim gets rid of all the alcohol (obviously) and Sienna stays there for a few days to keep an eye on Sebastian. He does well, he's happy, and Sienna is happy.

Sebastian's at a place now where drinking alcohol is a harmless entertainer. He only drinks if he's at dinner (and even then isn't often) or he's at a party (which is less often). Jim watches him but trusts him not to take anything over board. Sebastian knows his limits and knows when it's gone to far, and more importantly he doesn't want to be at that place again.

_***So, first of all, thank you for all of your kind words! I appreciate it a lot! **_

_***Second, I wanted to say that Mycroft and Greg's drunken babble came from my brother-in-law because he was drunk months ago and asked my sister why the bunny was trying to eat his treasure map. I had to use it. **_

**_*I have another Sherlock drunken fic in _All Their Differences, Chapter 16. _and _Chapter 20 _features Sherlock's pet snake. _**

_***I really wanted to get into Sebastian's childhood, even though this didn't do it that much. Him and Sienna had rough childhoods, causing them to do things that aren't so good (Sienna's men trouble and Seb's drinking problem). **_

_***Thanks for reading! Please review! **_


	17. Chapter 17

_***So, this one's pretty long and I don't have time to write more because I have to go to stupid history, so I only did couples 1 and 2. Just assume Seb and Jim don't have ex's. I imagine Seb has a series of short meaningless relationships (with women) and Jim's never had a relationship before Seb. **_

**_*Also, the Sherlock/John one was written a while back and I have to warn that some is.. Well, if you've read my story _Countdown _then this is nothing, but there are a few suggestive terms. Just a few. It's not like this is full on porn. It's not even that much. Ok, ok I'll stop. Just read. And enjoy. And review. And I'm sorry it's so long. _**

**Couple 1**

Three weeks before Christmas, Greg is informed that his ex will be bringing the girls to her mother's for the holiday. Greg is very excited, he hasn't seen his daughters since the beginning of August. Mycroft is showing his excitement, too; he went out and bought two beds for the guest room.

The day arrives that Greg's daughters will be home and he's dripping with excitement. He can't sleep the night before, he can't eat breakfast the next morning, he is _that _excited.

When the doorbell rings, Greg jumps up to answer. He is excited as he opens the door, then his smile fades. Mycroft can't see why, he can just see Greg's face change.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asks.

"What? You think I was going to send the girls over by themselves?"

"You came to drop the girls off, yet I see no girls."

"I left them at my mother's."

"Why? The agreement is that I have to see them, you even said they could come here for a few days."

"I had to check out your new place first." She says, pushing past Greg and into the flat.

"Yes, please come in." Greg says, closing the door.

Mycroft is standing as they reenter the living room. He looks nervous, he's never met Greg's ex-wife before. She is very short, she looks athletic. She has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. She's very beautiful, and somehow she's exactly what Mycroft would have imagined as a woman for Greg (although he tries not to imagine her very often).

"Uh, Mycroft, this is Anne. Anne, this is Mycroft."

Anne makes her way to Mycroft while eyeing everything in the room. "Ahh, the boyfriend." She takes Mycroft's hand and shakes.

"How do you do?" Mycroft asks. She walks past him and waves a hand, dismissing his question. Mycroft lowers his eyebrows and glances at Greg, Greg looks at Mycroft apologetically.

Anne continues looking around, inspecting everything and making faces. "And where will the girls sleep?" She asks.

"Oh, in here," Greg leads her to the guest room. "We just got new beds."

"Why?"

"There was only one bed in here."

"Why don't you just keep them at your house?"

"It was flooded a week ago and it's being renovated."

Anne makes a face and glances at Mycroft. "Are you sure it'll be ok here?"

"Of course."

"Fine," Anne makes her way to the front door, "You can pick them up at my mother's in an hour."

Greg rolls his eyes and holds back saying, 'well I wouldn't have to had you just brought them like we agreed', instead he smiles when she looks at him and he says, "Perfect. I'm right behind you."

"Not now, in about two hours."

"Why?"

"We're having lunch with Paul."

"Who is Paul?"

"My new boyfriend." She says, turning to walk down the hall.

Greg rolls his eyes again and rubs his face.

"Well, she's pleasant." Mycroft says.

"Oh, you have no idea how pleasant she can be."

They pick the girls up and get settled. They're very happy to see their dad and dad's boyfriend (they won't call him Mycroft and Greg has no idea why).

They take the girls to dinner and later they tuck them in to bed. The girls happily kiss Mycroft goodnight and say they love their daddy.

Somehow during the night, Greg's younger daughter Lucy migrates to Greg and Mycroft's bed. She cuddles against Greg all night.

They spend the next two days doing whatever the girls want to do. They go to the zoo, they meet John and Sherlock (which was funny), they go to the park, they eat ice cream. Greg loves every second of it (except when his older daughter Lindsay fell off the monkey bars and skinned her hands and knees).

At the end of the few days, Greg takes the girls back to Anne's mother's house. He's sad to leave them, even though he knows he'll see them for a few hours on Christmas. He hugs them and kisses them each three times, and after that they beg him to stop because he's smothering them. He says goodbye and leaves.

The next day Greg's home alone and the doorbell rings. He doesn't know who it could be, but he answers anyway. He's very, very angry to see that it's Anne.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lucy left her bunny here."

"Bunny?"

"Yes, Greg, her stuffed bunny."

"I didn't see a bunny."

Anne rolls her eyes and pushes her way past Greg to the guest room. She searches the room, unmaking the beds and pulling out the drawers. Greg wants to stop her but he knows she'll just start fighting with him, saying he doesn't care about the things Lucy needs, so he keeps his mouth shut.

When she can't find the bunny, Greg says, "I didn't see a bunny."

"No, really, Greg?" Anne sighs and shrugs, "I guess she packed it."

"Must have."

"I'm leaving then."

"Thank you." Greg mumbles.

He walks Anne to the door, and as Anne's about to open the door, she turns to Greg. "You know, the girls are with my mother for another few hours. And I doubt your…boyfriend…will be back for a while." She says, stepping towards Greg.

"So?" Greg backs away from her. She corners him against the wall.

"So, nobody has to know." She tries to kiss Greg, Greg moves out of the way. She tries again, this time more aggressively, and Greg gets out from against the wall and pushes her against it instead, trying to hold her in place to talk to her.

"Stop it, Anne, you can't do this. I can't do this, I don't want to do this, I—"

Greg is surprised when Anne gets out of his grasp and jumps into his arms. Her arms around his neck tighten and pull his face close to hers. She leans backwards to pull him against the wall.

"Come on, Greg, nobody has to know. I missed you."

Greg's hands press against the wall and he tries to pull away from her. For a small woman, she is freakishly strong. Greg can't push away from her before her lips press against his neck.

"Stop it, Anne." He sternly says, forcefully digging his hands into her thighs to make her let go from around his waist.

He's not quick enough, though, because before he knows it the front door behind them is opening and Mycroft is stepping into the flat. Mycroft stares at Greg and Anne, who is now on the ground, and pauses before saying, "Oh, sorry," and leaving the room. Greg pushes Anne away and chases after Mycroft, calling for him to stop.

"It's all right, Greg. I understand." Mycroft says, pushing the door to the stairs open. Mycroft doesn't take the elevator when he's upset, he always needs to walk his anger off.

"Stop, Mycroft, you don't understand, she—"

"It's all right, Greg."

Greg follows Mycroft down the stairs and manages to take his hand. Mycroft doesn't stop, he just pulls Greg down the stairs with him.

"Mycroft stop!" Greg yells, forcefully pulling Mycroft's hand. Mycroft stops. He knows that when Greg yells, he'd best listen. "That was nothing, ok? She came to get Lucy's bunny, and then she tried…well."

Mycroft's face was still angry, but he was calming and listening to Greg's words.

"Nothing is going on, I promise." Greg says, pressing his hand to Mycroft's face. He leans in to kiss Mycroft, and Mycroft hesitantly lets Greg kiss him. "I love you, ok? You." Greg presses his finger to Mycroft's chest.

Mycroft half smiles and kisses Greg again. "I'm sorry I got so angry. I didn't know I'm a jealous person."

"It's ok, I would have reacted the same way. Hell, I'd probably punch some guy if I walked in on that."

"Punch me or an ex?"

"Either."

Mycroft laughs and takes Greg's hand to go back upstairs. "Luckily, you won't have to worry about that."

"You don't have any ex's?"

"No, none of my ex's knows where I live."

"Oh, good."

When they get back to their flat, Anne is sitting on the couch. Greg tells her to get out, and when she won't, Greg picks her up and takes her outside. He puts her down by the elevator and runs back to the flat, slamming the door before Anne can get there. Greg and Mycroft laugh and start their dinner plans.

They see the girls a few days later, no Anne involved. Luckily, while they picked the girls up, she was out with Paul. Greg happily took them and used the fact that she wasn't there as leverage to let them keep the girls an extra day.

**Couple 2**

"Can you at least try to behave?" John whined as Sherlock pulled useless books off the shelf. "And please try not to make a mess. I've worked very hard on cleaning this past week."

"What are you getting all worked up about, anyway? Who is coming, again?"

John groaned, this was the hundredth time repeating this, "An old friend of mine from the Army."

"And why are you trying to make such an important impression?"

"I…because…no reason, ok? I just don't want him to think you and I are some slobs."

"Sure, John." Sherlock said, no longer paying attention and now reading from the fifth book he took off the shelf, the other four sprawled open on the floor.

An hour later, John is standing at the window staring down at the street. A taxi pulled up in front of 221B, John instantly straightened up and left the window.

"He's here!" he exclaimed, heading for the door. Sherlock sat back and watched, amused at John's childish excitement.

A minute or two later, John was back in their living room with his guest. He was slightly taller than John, but not as tall as Sherlock. He was slender, probably built and muscular. He had brown hair, a wide smile, bright eyes, and was terribly handsome. He was staring at John admiringly as they entered the living room, he had a goofy grin on his face the entire time.

_You're kidding me, right? _Sherlock thought to himself. He shook the man's hand and introduced himself, "Sherlock Holmes, it's a pleasure."

"Mark Smith, pleased to meet you Mister Holmes."

"Please, call me Sherlock."

John was almost surprised at Sherlock's politeness, until Sherlock turned to John and informed him that he'd be in _his_ room if 'he was needed'. John sighed, rolled his eyes, and watched Sherlock hop up the stairs.

After a while of talking and drinking tea, Sherlock heard John and Mark leave the house. He went to his window, looking down on to the street and spotting the two men entering a cab.

Mark opened the door.

_Polite, _Sherlock thought.

Mark placed his hand on John's back, gently helping him into the cab.

_He really didn't have to do that, _Sherlock thought.

Mark glanced up into Sherlock's window, grinning at Sherlock and ducking into the cab.

_I'm going to kill him, _Sherlock thought.

It was quite obvious that Mark had a _thing _for John. Sherlock figured it out before he even arrived. John spoke so highly of him, almost like they'd had a relationship further than friends and Army mates. John mentioned Mark _accidentally _sharing his feelings for John while drunk one evening, but John assured Sherlock that nothing happened, and nothing ever will.

"What if he still has feelings for you?" Sherlock had joked.

"He's married, Sherlock. To a woman." John had assured him.

But Sherlock questioned why Mark would, out of the blue, call John for a visit. John had said Mark was visiting London for the weekend and wanted to say hello, but Sherlock didn't think that was it. Mark wasn't wearing a wedding ring, he only had a slight tan around the ring of his finger, which indicated that he hadn't been wearing it for some time.

He wasn't married anymore.

And the way he was looking at John. It didn't sit very well with Sherlock. Only he could look at John that way.

_And that stupid grin, _Sherlock thought.

John returned around nine PM, and by then Sherlock decided not to let it bother him. Well, he decided to not let it bother him as much as it could.

"How was your date?" Sherlock asked as John entered the living room and took off his coat.

"First of all, it wasn't a date. Second of all, it was fine."

"Where'd you go?"

"An Italian place on the other side of London."

"All the way over there? Suspicious."

John gulped. "What is?"

"Nothing, my love." Sherlock said, placing a light kiss on John's lips.

As they were getting ready for bed, John was going on about his interesting conversations with Mark. Sherlock was beginning to get annoyed, but he let John ramble to get it out of his system.

John had stopped talking for minutes now, but Sherlock was still silent while fluffing his pillows, then pulling his shirt over his head. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm, what? You're done talking about Mark?"

"Well, yes. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Sherlock laid in the bed, John stared at him. "What?"

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Don't be an idiot, John. Of course not."

John laid next to Sherlock, kissed his cheek, and rolled onto his back. "Sorry. You just sound defensive."

"This is my normal tone."

"All right."

Sherlock rolled onto his side facing John. He propped his head up with one arm. "He obviously likes you, John."

"He does not."

"How do you know?"

"He's-"

"Married? No he's not. He hasn't been for a while."

"How-never mind. He's just not, Sherlock."

Sherlock ignored John. "And the way he stares at you."

"What's wrong with the way he looks at me?"

"Not looks-stares. Like the way I used to."

"You _used _to? You don't stare at me like you like me anymore?"

"Well, no. I thought we were past that."

"You don't have to be _past _it to still look at one another like you still want them."

Sherlock looked confused for a minute, then shook it off. "He just likes you, John. I can tell."

"Oh, yeah?" John turned onto his side and looked Sherlock in the eyes. "What are you going to do about it, fight for my honor?"

"I shouldn't have to. You're already mine."

"You don't _own_ me, Sherlock."

Sherlock raised one eye brow and looked at him like, 'Yeah, right'. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against John's. John let Sherlock's tongue play with his own, but as Sherlock was pushing John down on the bed, John stopped him.

"I have to get up early, Sherlock."

"For what?"

"For, uh," he coughed and continued, "Breakfast with Mark."

"You are kidding me, right?" Sherlock asked, rolling off John and turning over to go to sleep.

"I'm sorry." John said, curling his body around Sherlock's and kissing his shoulder. "I love you."

"Mhm." Sherlock mumbled.

The next morning, an hour and a half before he had to meet Mark, John was laying underneath Sherlock, being penetrated forcefully as Sherlock thrust wildly into John. John moaned and whispered Sherlock's name, his fingernails digging into Sherlock's chest and neck, his fingers tangling into Sherlock's hair while Sherlock smiled wide and sunk his teeth into John's neck. Sherlock's hand around John motioned in the same rhythm as his hips, making John moan louder and scratch deeper.

They finished, one right after the other, and Sherlock collapsed onto John. He smirked and kissed John's lips.

"What?" John asked, chuckling at Sherlock's slight childishness.

Sherlock leaned in to John and bit his earlobe, whispering to John, "And you think I don't own you."

Two hours after he left, John was rushing into the living room, panting frantically and looking flushed. And scared.

"John? What is it?" Sherlock asked, jumping off the couch and going to John's aid. He pulled John to the couch and sat next to him, placing an arm around John's shoulders.

"I," John swallowed, "You were right."

"About?"

"Mark."

Sherlock kept his cool. "What happened?"

"Well, we were eating breakfast, right? And, he, uh, well, he grabbed my hand."

"Not so bad." Sherlock said, placing a kiss on John's temple.

"That's not all."

"What else?"

"Then, he said some words, some words I don't remember, and he leaned in to me, and, he, uh, kissed my cheek."

Sherlock let out a deep sigh. "Ok, not a big deal. I'm all right."

"That's not all, Sherlock."

Sherlock went cold. "What else, John?"

"He kissed me."

"He, what?" Sherlock jumped off the couch and stepped over the coffee table.

"It's ok, Sherlock. I pushed him away and ran."

"You _ran_?"

"Don't act so shocked, I can run."

"No, I mean, you literally just ran away?"

"Yes, I didn't know what else to do."

Sherlock laughed. He was angry, but not at John. John amused him. It was Mark that shouldn't cross Sherlock's path.

And right then there was a knock on the door.

"He followed you?" Sherlock asked. "And I thought I was creepy."

"Stay cool, ok? Please?" John patted Sherlock's back and went to the door.

Mark stood, proud as ever and smiling his stupid smile at John. He took a step toward John.

"John," Mark said as seductively as he could, "You left before I could…" He took another step at John.

Sherlock intervened and pulled John away, wrapping his arm around him as tight as he could. "Step away, Mark."

"What's this? You two, really?" Mark laughed and pointed at the odd couple in front of him.

"Yes, he is mine." Sherlock said. John didn't protest.

"You don't own him, Sherlock. He can make his own decisions."

"Oh, yeah?" And with that, Sherlock pulled John close, their lips touching in a deep, passionate kiss. John's hands tugged at Sherlock's hair, pulling his head closer in to the kiss.

Mark just stared. After a minute, or three, he cleared his throat, causing Sherlock to break the kiss.

"Oh, right." Sherlock mumbled, then broke his hold of John. "Mark, pleasure to meet you, really, but it's time for you to go."

"I-but-John-"

Mark didn't finish his sentence before Sherlock had hold of his shirt collar and was pushing him out the door. Sherlock was smiling, but he was smiling only to keep the rage from slipping through him and knocking Mark's teeth in. He pushed him out the door, slamming the wood on his face.

Before Sherlock could hear footsteps walking down the stairs, he was being pushed against the door with John's tongue halfway down his throat and John's hands fumbling at his belt.

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock breathed out between kisses.

"Claiming what's mine." John said, pulling Sherlock's pants down and dropping to his knees.


	18. Chapter 18

_***I had the sudden idea for Couple 3 and sort of ex's. So here it goes. **_

**Couple 3**

While Sebastian and Jim were still trying to figure out what was going on in their relationship, Sebastian would go out each night that he wasn't with Jim to find a girl. Any girl would do (as long as she was Sebastian's type) and they only had to stay a little while, he wasn't looking for anyone long term.

One night he went out and found Janine. She was tall, beautiful, and very into Sebastian. He went back to her house and the next morning he was gone before she was up.

A few nights later, he went out and met Carrie. She was a lot like Janine, except she was shorter. The same thing happened as with Janine and he never contacted either again.

Skip forward eight months and Sebastian is now in an established relationship with Jim. Everything is fine, and at two months into their relationship, they're doing well.

Until…

Jim decides to take Sebastian to dinner to celebrate his new sobriety. They go to a fancy restaurant (the fanciest Sebastian will allow at this point) and everything is nice.

Sebastian goes to the bar to get some air. The room is too crowded and he's growing overwhelmed (that and he's not quite ready to be on a date with a man, if you remember). Sebastian is standing at the bar sipping his water when he's approached by Carrie. He doesn't recognize her at first (he was drunk when he slept with her), but it comes back to him and he remembers a little bit.

"What are you doing in these parts of town?" Sebastian asks.

"Just waiting for a friend. We're going to have dinner."

"That's what people do at restaurants."

"So," Carrie says, "You never called me."

"I didn't did I?"

"Why is that?"

"Look, I was really drunk. And I was pretty much really drunk for, like, a year."

She gasps, "You're an alcoholic?"

"Technically."

"Oh." She says. Jim can hear the disgust in her voice.

"Yes, because I'm sure your other suitors are pleasant men."

Carrie huffs and looks around the restaurant. "My friend's coming over. See you around."

"Hope not." He says, asking the bartender for water.

Two seconds later, someone hits Sebastian him against the back of the arm and his water spills all over the bar.

"Hey, what the—" he stops asking for an explanation when he turns around, "Oh dear god."

"Hello, Sebastian."

"Hey, Janine." He hesitantly says, dabbing the water on his jacket with a napkin. He points to Janine and addresses Carrie, "This is your friend?"

"Yup." Carrie says, crossing her arms.

"Why couldn't I have just met you the same night?" he jokes, standing and opening his arms to place around the girls' shoulders.

In seconds, he's on the ground because Janine just kicked him in the groin and is about to a second time.

"Jim, Jim!" he shouts.

Jim appears moments later and stops Janine from kicking him again. "Hey, what's going on here?" He helps Sebastian up and places an arm around his waist.

"She attacked me!"

"He slept with _both _of us and didn't call either of us back!" Janine shouts.

"You did what? When?" Jim asks Sebastian, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Carrie asks.

"You're _gay_?" Janine asks.

"This is a hate crime!" Sebastian shouts.

"Hey!" The bartender yells above them, "Can you take this outside?"

The four get escorted out of the restaurant and resume their fighting outside.

"Look what you did, you got us kicked out!" Sebastian says.

"All of this could be resolved had you not slept with _both _of us and not called us!" Carrie says.

"Oh, yeah! Because it's my fault you spread your legs for—" Sebastian begins while taking a step towards Carrie. She winds up her fist and Jim catches it before she punches his face.

"Hey, ok!" Jim says. "Everyone calm down!"

Everyone is silent for a few minutes and Sebastian murmurs, "She started it."

Jim takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes. "Sebastian."

"What?"

"Apologize to these lovely ladies, and we'll—"

"Apologize? For what!"

"For sleeping with _both _of us and not calling us!"

"I'm sorry you're both little who—"

"Oh, come out of the closet, Sebastian!" Janine says.

Sebastian throws his arms in the air and stutters, "Who-what-wh-who are you? I don't even know you!"

"You could have! You missed out!"

"You two are awful human beings!"

"We're bracing you for what will keep happening if you play the women of London!"

"I don't exactly have that problem anymore, do I?"

Janine and Carrie look at each other and begin to giggle.

"What? What is this? What are you doing?" Sebastian asks.

Janine giggles and points at Carrie. "She turned you gay."

"No, no!" Carrie says, laughing, "I didn't, you did!"

"Well, technically, you were the last one, Carrie, so you should work on your—" Sebastian is cut off because Carrie lunges at him. Sebastian runs away and Carrie throws her heels off and chases him down the street. Jim and Janine laugh at the two running down the street.

"So," Jim says, "Can I buy you ladies a drink?"

"Is this a trick?"

"Huh? Oh, no, Sebastian and I are together. Think of it as…a peace offering."

They get Sebastian and Carrie to settle down and the four go to a different bar. They drink all night and by the end of the night Janine and Sebastian are the two best of friends.

"I can't believe I didn't call you back, you are hilarious." Sebastian tells her.

"Do you want to keep reminding me? Because I will kick you again." Janine says through a smile.

They don't keep in touch with the two girls, but Sebastian learned to not start talking to a girl he's slept with after he didn't call her. It'd probably end in groin kicking. And Jim being upset because Sebastian continued sleeping with women after they sort of got together. But after a while it doesn't matter because Sebastian is _his _now and Jim doesn't have any ex's. Well, until 'that little girl' as Sebastian refers to Molly (and he does not like her).


	19. Chapter 19

**Couple 1**

Let's just start that saying Mycroft hates travelling. He's hated travelling since he was a boy and Mummy would take them somewhere far away for the weekend (she did it often because she'd randomly hate being home). He never liked having to pack, then unpack, then not sleep in his own bed, then deal with Sherlock being Sherlock, then sometimes Mummy wouldn't account for weather conditions and they'd be cooped up in their hotel room. All in all, travelling has never been his cup of tea.

But now he's an adult that is very capable of packing and unpacking and not being grouchy about sleeping somewhere else for a few days and he hasn't travelled with Sherlock in years. His problem _now _is being away from Greg. When he got the news a month ago that he'd be going to Paris this weekend, he sulked and pouted while Greg said it wasn't going to be that bad.

Which is why right now he's pouting and_ watching_ Greg fold and delicately place _his_ shirts into suitcase and reassuring _him_ that's it's only a few days.

"Easy for you to say, Greg. You get to stay here."

"Seriously, Mycroft. You'll be gone two days."

"Two days. Airplanes—"

"Private jets."

"Luggage—"

"Which I'm packing."

"Strangers—"

"Acquaintances."

"Far away from you—"

"You're going to Paris."

"I hate travelling."

"It's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say."

Mycroft leaves as Greg is leaving for work. Their two days begins and Mycroft sulks on the plane. He _hates _travel.

Greg gets home and checks his phone. Three messages from Mycroft.

**From: Mycroft Holmes 1:26 PM**

_Landed a while ago. Heading to work. _

**From: Mycroft Holmes 3:35 PM**

_I just saw a man that looks like you._

**From: Mycroft Holmes 3:40 PM**

_Never mind. He didn't look as much like you as I previously thought. It appears that I just miss you._

Greg smiles and starts his dinner. He decides to stay at Mycroft's flat because it has food and clean clothes. Besides, it's only two days and Mycroft isn't going to mind. It's not like it's just _his _anyway.

Then Greg begins to get lonely. He wanders the flat in search of entertainment. He watches TV for about half an hour, he makes a sandwich, he washes the dishes (there are two dishes, what he really does is fills the giant sink with dish bubbles because Mycroft never lets him).

An hour after he begins, he's incredibly bored. It's only 7 o'clock and he's sure Mycroft's busy. He calls John to see if John wants to go to the pub. John's busy, so he calls another friend. He calls three friends and they're all busy. Greg sighs and takes a book to his bed.

Meanwhile, Mycroft finishes the day's work up early and heads to his hotel room. He calls room service and orders dinner. He waits for Greg to call. When he doesn't, he assumes Greg's still at work so he doesn't bother him. Mycroft grows bored and texts Sherlock to annoy him. Sherlock doesn't give in so he sighs and throws his phone on the bed while heading for a shower.

Around 9, Greg picks up the phone to call Mycroft.

Around 9:01, Mycroft picks up the phone to call Greg.

The lines go directly to voicemail.

Mycroft leaves Greg a message, but Greg doesn't leave one for Mycroft. However, right as Greg hangs up the phone, he gets in the shower. And decides to take a really long shower. And doesn't pick his phone up for another hour.

When he gets out, he sees it blinking indicating a message. He listens and groans, knowing that if it was an hour ago then Mycroft was probably asleep. Greg decides to call him anyway.

Mycroft groggily answers, "Hello?"

"Hey, Mycroft."

"Hey, Greg."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine. How about you?"

"I'm fine."

There's a long silence. Neither man knows what to say. Conversation flows so easy while they're together, but apart seems strange.

"I don't like this." Greg finally says.

"Like what?"

"When you…go."

Mycroft smiles, "You practically pushed me on the plane. You packed my bag!"

"Because you wouldn't do it."

"Still didn't have to push me on the plane!"

"Someone has to work. Someone has to afford this flat we occupy."

"_Someone _does afford it. _Someone _just occupies it for free."

"Why don't we just live together?"

Mycroft pauses to make sure he heard Greg. "What?"

"Yeah, why not? Why don't I just move in?"

"Are you…serious?"

"What's the problem? I can pay for half the rent. It'd save us money."

"There's no problem."

"Really?"

"If you…want to."

"Great."

"Great."

"I'm moving in, then."

"Great."

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just…"

"Mycroft? Are you upset?"

Mycroft takes a minute to let his nervous breathing settle. He finally says, "No. I'm happy, Greg. I'm really happy."

Greg smiles, "Great. Me too."

They're silent for a few minutes until Greg finally says, "Mycroft?"

"Yes, Greg?"

"Don't go anywhere anymore, ok? Can you do that?"

Mycroft half smiles and asks, "Why?"

"I'm bored."

Mycroft laughs and presses deeper under the covers, getting ready to end the conversation. It ends with them both repeating about ten times that they miss each other, and about three times that they love each other, and twice saying they're happy about their new arrangement.

Greg put his flat up for sale two weeks later, about the time Mycroft has to take another trip out of the county.

He sends Anthea instead.

**Couple 2**

John doesn't like Sherlock to leave. Good reason too, Sherlock left. Remember? John does. John never forgets. It'd be good if he did, but he doesn't.

So when Sherlock says he has to go to Berlin for a case, John jumps up and starts packing. And that says something, because John hates to travel.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks, following John into their room.

"Packing."

"Why?"

"To go to Berlin." John says, not taking his eyes off his bags.

"You're not going."

John stops cold, "What do you mean I'm not going?"

"I mean you're not going. You're a distraction."

"But—"

"No, no negotiating this time. Last time I almost lost the thief."

"But you didn't."

"But I almost did, and that's just as good as actually losing him."

John throws his luggage back into the closet and stomps into the living room.

"Now, John, please understand."

"No."

"You can't say 'no', that's childish—"

"I can say 'no' and I am saying 'no'. I am going to sit here and pout because this is _bullshit, _Sherlock."

"What are you upset about? That I won't take you or that I told you no?"

"That you're not taking me. I don't like being away from you, Sherlock. Not again."

Sherlock steps over to John and places his arms around John's neck. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'll be back in about five days, ok?"

"_FIVE DAYS?"_

"It'll fly."

Wrong.

Five days was a long time when it turns into eight days and John is going out of his mind because he has talked to Sherlock twice. It was brief, which irks John even more; Sherlock hardly said anything about missing John. Which is fine. It really is. Because John's not that needy. He doesn't need to hear how much Sherlock misses him to know Sherlock misses him.

Except that Sherlock's on a case and John knows he doesn't miss him. John gets sad each night and clutches Sherlock's pillow, but he knows that won't do in a day or so because that pillow will start smelling like his own scent. John tries not to cry because damn it he is a man; but damn it he misses Sherlock.

On the seventh night, Sherlock calls John to tell him he caught the murderers. John _demands _Sherlock gets on a damn airplane right now, but Sherlock already knows there aren't any flights out of Berlin until tomorrow evening.

"This isn't fair, Sherlock. I'm going next time."

"You hate travel."

"I hate being away from you."

Sherlock smiles and says, "You're not away from me, John. Never."

Sherlock returns home and John picks him up from the airport. In his mind, Sherlock replays the beginning of that stupid movie John made him watch (Love Actually) when the narrator says, "Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport…" because John was gloomy, and now John is happy. And Sherlock likes to make John happy.

So on the next case out of town, Sherlock takes John even though he knows John will be distracting.

John promises not to be distracting.

John doesn't succeed.

Sherlock never got why John was upset when Sherlock would leave until John left and Sherlock got upset. John tells Sherlock he'll be gone for three days at a conference in Birmingham.

"That's _so _far away."

"It's two hours, Sherlock."

"Two hours and five minutes, roughly."

"Either way, it's fine. Only three days, remember? I promise it'll go by quicker than you know and you won't notice I'm gone."

Wrong.

During Sherlock's first day alone, he manages to nearly burn the flat down (again). The details aren't important (that's what he tells John), all that matters is that John needs to get home _now_.

Sherlock doesn't sleep much that night, he hasn't done well in bed alone since he and John began sharing a bed. He tosses and turns until he finally decides to conduct an experiment involving all of John's tea bags (as revenge) and the left over blood he had from the experiment last week.

The next day, Sherlock doesn't hear from John and goes insane. He is so desperate for anything John that he empties John's closet, dresser, and dirty clothes hamper and buries himself in John's shirts. There are enough for Sherlock to cover himself fully on the couch.

Around noon, Mrs. Hudson goes upstairs to check on Sherlock and finds him asleep wrapped in John's shirts. Mrs. Hudson brushes the curls out of his eyes and leaves him to sleep.

John calls that night. He informs Sherlock that nothing interesting is happening tomorrow. Sherlock begs John to come home, but John insists he must stay.

When John hangs up, a horrible feeling invades him. The way Sherlock sounded on the phone was not good, John fears Sherlock might do something drastic or do _something _John won't like. John calms down and realizes maybe he imagined the tone and his thoughts are jumping to the worst. Still, John doesn't feel right. He rents a car and heads home.

He gets home at midnight and Sherlock's asleep in their bed wearing one of John's jumpers and John's pajama pants. He smiles at Sherlock's sleeping form and walks over to the bed, placing his hand on Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock stirs awake and blinks up at John.

"John?"

"Hey, I came home early."

"What? Why?"

"I just felt more needed here. Go back to sleep, ok?"

Sherlock pulls John to him and rolls over so that John is on his side facing Sherlock in bed. He holds John so close that they're only taking up one half of the bed.

"Don't go, ok? Not again?"

"No," John reassures, "Never."

**Couple 3**

Sebastian is pissed. No, really. He is angry. Really angry. So angry that he wants to shoot Jim when he gets home (which will be tomorrow).

It's Sebastian's third day in Philadelphia trailing a client. He was supposed to kill him _yesterday, _but _someone _forgot to mention that the victim was out of town. So Sebastian's been waiting around for him. And he's pissed.

Jim calls and Sebastian considers not answering, but that little tiny part of his heart that actually likes Jim right now is screaming, "I miss you!". So Sebastian answers.

"What?"

"Is that any way to answer the phone?"

"It is to me."

"Don't be angry anymore. It was misunderstanding."

"I've been stuck in Philadelphia for three days now with nothing to do and you're telling me to get over it because it was a misunderstanding?"

"I'm not telling you to 'get over it'; I'm telling you to not be angry anymore."

"It's the same thing!"

"Look—"

"Don't try to make this better. Don't try to comfort me."

"Fine. I won't tell you that a plane's on its way to get you now and should be in Philadelphia in two hours."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I had it arranged."

Sebastian looks at the phone to make sure it's really Jim he's talking to. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you have it arranged? Why didn't you tell me to just wait for the flight tomorrow?"

"I thought I'd do something nice."

Sebastian checks the call again. "Who are you and what have you done with Jim?"

"Joke all you want."

A smile creeps upon Sebastian's face. "James Moriarty, do you miss me?"

Jim's quiet for a minute then answers, "No."

"You do, don't you?"

"No."

"Aww, Jim," Sebastian jokes, "How sweet."

"Stop it, I don't!"

"You can miss me, I don't mind."

"Well I do." Jim snaps.

Sebastian stops. He frowns and asks, "You do what?"

"I do mind. I," Jim snaps. He clears his throat and says, "I don't like this…feeling."

"What does it feel like?"

"Like I can't breath."

"Without me?" Sebastian asks, but he says it so quiet that Jim can't hear him.

"And I feel like I got hit by a bus. I haven't slept in days."

"Christ, you do miss me."

"Shut it," Jim takes a minute to regain his dignity, "Just hurry home, alright?"

"Yes, dear."

"The plane will be there in two hours."

"Perfect. I've got to go, ok? Try not to miss me too much in the next few hours."

"Joke all you want. I won't miss you when you have to sleep on the couch."

Sebastian laughs, "Alright. See you soon."

"Alright."

"And Jim?"

"Yes?"

"I miss you, too." Sebastian says and hangs up.

Sebastian isn't pissed anymore because Jim actually misses him. He's never been missed before and he never, ever thought of Jim being the first person that did it. He gets on the plane two hours later and is home by midnight. And it's the first time Sebastian's ever felt a welcome home.

_***Sorry for taking so long to update. Well, it probably wasn't really that long but it feels like it because I have been busier than usual. I hope you enjoy this chapter and some might seem out of character but we don't know what happens behind their closed doors. Maybe they are a bunch of sappy blokes that desperately love each other like they are in my mind.**_

_***ALSO, the movie Love Actually is my favorite movie ever and if you have never seen it I suggest you do it NOW because there's a naked Martin Freeman in it and that is when I fell in love with him (yes I was 11 and yes I wasn't supposed to watch that part and yes I have been in love with him for the past eight years and yes I am 19, sheesh). **_

_***Review, always review. I love the reviews. Give me ideas, I also love the ideas. Thank you, I hope you enjoy **_


	20. Chapter 20

**Couple 1**

Let me tell you something about Greg Lestrade: he loves his job, he really does. Let me tell you something else about Greg Lestrade: he _needs_ vacation -which is what is very apparent to Mycroft right now. It is one week after Greg's ex-wife took his daughters back to Australia three weeks early and Greg is moping like Mycroft's never seen. It's been a difficult transition week and Mycroft feels more and more horrible about it by the second. Mycroft knows Greg was dreading Anne taking the girls back, but neither of them saw Anne taking them back _early_.

Greg took the last month of the girls' visit as vacation time. He'd saved up for all that time and he could afford to not work for four weeks, it was no problem really.

Which is why, "Pack. We're getting out of here," came out of Mycroft's mouth without any hesitation.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you'd like."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"There's got to be _some _reason for this."

"The reason, Greg, is that I don't like seeing you upset."

Greg eyed Mycroft suspiciously for a few minutes, then dropped his gaze. "I don't feel like going anywhere, Mycroft."

"Getting out will do some good."

"You don't like travelling."

"I also don't like going shopping or cooking, but I do that for you on a fairly regular basis."

"Now I feel like going away with me is a chore; like you don't want to, but you _have_ to."

"I _want _to, Greg. I promise. Come on, let's go."

Mycroft called for a jet within three minutes. He knew he could use "The jet's ready," as guilt for when Greg goes, "No, this is a bad idea."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Nowhere."

"Not an option."

"Fine."

Mycroft glared at Greg until Greg said, "Seattle?"

It's three days later and Greg and Mycroft are laying on their bed in a hotel in Seattle (they're fully clothed and not touching one bit, if you honestly want to know).

"_You_ could have checked weather conditions before we left." Greg snaps.

"_You _said 'Seattle'." Mycroft snaps back.

"And?"

Mycroft throws his hands in the air and shouts, "It rains here!"

"It rains in London, too, but we seem to survive it."

"I am not going outside right now, Greg."

"Didn't you pack an umbrella?"

"Contrary to popular belief, it isn't always glued to my hand."

"So you didn't bring an umbrella?"

"Yes, Greg. I packed an umbrella; I've just been making us sit here for the past three days because I like your close company."

"You don't have to get smart with me."

"You don't have to blame me because it rains in Seattle."

"Maybe you can just go back to London and I'll stay here."

Mycroft glances at Greg. "Excellent idea," Mycroft says, standing and pulling his suitcase out of the closet.

"Wait, wait," Greg sits up and watches Mycroft, "I wasn't serious."

"I know, but we're getting out of here."

"What, like to another hotel?"

"No, another state, maybe?"

"Wait, what?"

"I promised you a vacation, didn't I? Come on, pack." Mycroft leans across the bed and kisses Greg's cheek. Greg stares at Mycroft in disbelief. "Seriously, Greg, come on. Let's go somewhere else."

"Where?"

Mycroft shrugs, "Ever been to San Diego? I hear it's lovely this time of year."

They get on the plane and head to California within the hour. Greg is still in disbelief, but soon that fades because within just hours of leaving rainy Seattle, they're enjoying a nice dinner on the beach in San Diego. Greg is smiling, of course.

"You look happy," Mycroft remarks.

"I am happy."

"I think you needed some sun."

"I think I needed some _you_," Greg says, winking.

"You haven't had any of me yet. You've had rain, bad telly, and shouting matches with me."

"But now I can enjoy you."

"Wonderful," Mycroft says, taking a bite of his shrimp. "You're not upset anymore?"

"I'm still upset, but not with you. I'm could strangle An—" Greg cut himself off mid sentence and put his fork down in excitement. "Say, Mycroft?"

"Yes, Greg?"

"Do you think maybe next year we could take the girls on vacation?"

Mycroft looks at Greg and smiles, "If you'd like."

"Wonderful! I can't wait," Greg gleefully says.

"But Greg?"

"Yes?"

"Can we enjoy this one first?" Mycroft asks, reaching across the table for Greg's hand.

"Of course," Greg says, taking Mycroft's hand.

They do enjoy their vacation (all ten days of it). They swim in the ocean, take tours, take boat rides, and enjoy general Californian things. Greg nails surfing, but Mycroft fails (Greg will never let that go).

**Couple 2**

John and Sherlock don't travel often. John hates to travel, and Sherlock doesn't like leaving London. He's not a fan of being abroad. But there's always a special instance in which they'll both travel: a case.

However, when John agreed to go with him, Sherlock stood back and asked, "Wait, what?" Because John hates to travel. And Sherlock remembers this fact each and every time he says he's leaving. Sherlock knew this as he tentatively informed John that he has a case in Italy.

"Great." John said.

"Great?"

"Yes. Perfect timing."

"For?"

John stood on his tiptoes and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Nothing."

Sherlock's still surprised that John is packing _with _him and not _for _him.

"Did you pack your—" John starts.

"Yes."

"What about your—"

"Yes."

John sets down his pants and stares at Sherlock. "You don't even know what I'm—"

"Of course I do."

"No, I'm sure you don't."

"Fine, what is it then? Toothpaste? Shampoo? Deodorant? Shirts? Pants? All here."

"Bathing suite?"

"B-bathing—" Sherlock cuts himself off and looks at John, startled.

"Yes. You know something people swim in?"

"Why would I—"

"You know? It's fine. I'm sure Italy's got nude beaches." John winks at Sherlock and zips his suitcase.

"Nude beaches…John?" Sherlock watches John walk out of their room. "John? John, what do you have planned?"

The case is solved in two days (as predicted) and as Sherlock is packing, John comes into the room and tells him to stop.

"Stop? I'm going home."

"Not without me."

"Then pack. Let's go, there's a flight at noon."

"Nope."

"What do you mean?"

"I am officially on vacation," John says, toeing off his shoes and plopping down on the bed.

"Vacation…" Sherlock repeats slowly.

"_We _are on vacation, my dear." John pats the bed next to him.

John turns the TV on and watches it as Sherlock watches him and waits for John to say, "No, I'm kidding let's go home." The wait lasts a solid eight minutes until finally Sherlock knows John is serious and he slowly lowers himself onto the bed next to John. He's hesitant at first until John lifts his arm to place behind Sherlock's head. Sherlock smiles and toes his shoes off.

Over the next week, Sherlock reluctantly does everything John instructs him to. They go to museums, site seeing, and of course Sherlock's least favorite place: the beach.

First of all, Sherlock does not pack a bathing suit.

"You didn't bring one?"

"I don't have one."

"With you or—"

"At all."

"You don't…have a bathing suite…at all."

"Why would I ever need one?"

John stares at Sherlock, then asks, "Do you know how to swim?"

Sherlock silently sits down on the bed.

"Sherlock?"

"No, I don't, ok?"

John chuckles, "So, that night in the pool? With Moriarty? Had we been blown into that pool you would've drowned? The explosion wouldn't have killed you, the fact that you decided to meet in a _pool _would have killed you?"

"You would have saved me."

John takes Sherlock's hand and marches him out of the room. "Come on," John says, "We're getting you a bathing suit."

Secondly, Sherlock complains about the sun.

"I am _white _John, I will burn."

"Not without this," John says, tossing a tube of sunblock at Sherlock.

"Sunblock? Please, John."

"Come on, I'll help you."

Then, they get outside.

"It's bright." Sherlock whines.

"Put your glasses on."

"Still bright."

"I'll get you a hat."

"Those are ugly."

"Then stop complaining."

Third, Sherlock doesn't like the sand.

"What is _this_?" Sherlock asks, stepping onto the beach.

John sighs, "Sand."

"Why is it like this? It's sticky, John."

"You've never seen beach sand?"

"I must have deleted it."

"It's not that bad."

"It's going to stick everywhere."

"It'll be fine." John finds a spot and lays their towels down, then sets up two chairs and sits in one of them. "Do you want to sit for a minute or do you want to go for a swim?"

"A swim?"

John nods towards the ocean in front of them. "You won't drown, I promise." John stands and pulls his shirt off. "Come on." He takes Sherlock's hand and leads him to the tide.

Sherlock pauses as his feet reach the slow tide and watches it rise around to his ankles. "It's cold."

"Of course it is. It'll warm up." John pulls Sherlock to move forward, but Sherlock won't move. "What is it? Are you scared?"

"Scared? Of course not." Sherlock snaps. "But…maybe I'll just sit here for a while." Sherlock lets go of John's hand and quickly sits.

John continues into the ocean and swims in the deep waves. Sherlock watches from afar and envies John. John is so free and fearless, Sherlock is disappointed in himself for not being able to get in the ocean.

After a while, Sherlock spots a crab and goes to it. He lays on his stomach in the tide and stares at the crab.

"You look so lonely," Sherlock says to the crab, "Haven't you got a mate? You should find one, they're wonderful to have. Sometimes they kill for you. Sometimes they give you things you never had before. Yours will probably give you baby crabs, right?" Sherlock sighs and tries to spot John in the water. When he can't find John, his attention goes back to the crab, "You ought to find a mate. That way you won't be lost and you can do things you're afraid of because they're there with you. You could go back into the ocean." John then, another crab comes to them and the first crab leaves with the second crab, disappearing into the waves. At the exact same time, John runs out of the water and stands above Sherlock.

"What are you doing?" John asks, dripping onto Sherlock.

"Observing." Sherlock stands and wraps his arm around John. "John, I'm ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?" John asks, still out of breath.

"To swim."

John smiles and hugs Sherlock back. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"I promise you won't drown."

"I know."

"And sharks aren't an issue."

"Wait, what?"

"And don't worry, the sand that gets in your shorts _will _eventually come out. It'll only itch for a little while."

"John, what are you talking about?"

"And don't drink the water." John pulls Sherlock just far enough for Sherlock's shorts to be entirely covered in water, then dives into the water and swims three feet away.

"John?" Sherlock asks, moving in the water to try to spot John, "John stop!"

John emerges right next to Sherlock, startling Sherlock enough to fall over. John laughs and when Sherlock gets his balance again, he splashes handfuls of water at John.

They enjoy the ocean for hours until the sun goes down, then John has to do his best to remove sand from both himself and Sherlock, then he has to lotion Sherlock because he _does _get sunburned; but all-in-all, John would say it was a successful trip to the beach and a very successful vacation. _Maybe next time I can get him to go somewhere we can ski, _John thinks as him and Sherlock leave Italy three days later.

Sherlock does go skiing with John, but that's because John bribes him with free fridge space for body parts for three weeks.

**Couple 3**

Before being boyfriend or lover or _what-the-fuck-ever _you want to call Sebastian before he'll call himself that title, he is first and foremost an employee of The World's Only Consulting Criminal. And as an employee, he is entitled to a few things that Jim provides him with: pay (not to be confused with prostitution), benefits (although he didn't exactly have benefits before that accident he had, so you can imagine the hospital bill), and vacation time.

Which is why right now he's sitting on the couch in his pajama pants and eating leftover pizza from three days ago. Jim walks in, takes one look at Sebastian (who hasn't shaved in two days and hasn't showered in possibly more), and wants to walk out.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothin'."

"I know you're doing 'nothing', I want to know why."

"I'm on vacation."

"You're—" Jim cuts himself off and rubs his eyes. The third year in a row this is happening and Jim's not used to it yet. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I. Am. On. Va-ca-tion."

Jim sighs. "For how long?"

Sebastian shrugs.

"We've got things to do," Jim says, crossing his arms.

"_We,_" Sebastian points from himself to Jim, "Don't. _We,_" he points at Jim alone, "Do."

"_We,_" Jim points at Sebastian, "Are not on vacation because _we _didn't inform _our _boss before _our _boss scheduled a full week of clients."

"_We _told _our _boyfriend two weeks ago that _we _were planning to take vacation."

"Can we stop this?"

"_We_," Sebastian points at Jim, "Can."

Jim shouts offensive terms at Sebastian as he exits their flat and slams the door as he goes. Sebastian sits on the couch and laughs himself into a short nap.

While Sebastian sleeps, he has a memory dream about the summer his mother took him and Sienna to a beach. They were young, he was probably 10-years-old, and it was the happiest he'd ever been. When he wakes up, Sebastian immediately begins packing.

Jim comes home an hour later and asks Sebastian where he's going.

"I don't know. Somewhere with a beach."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"I was thinking Florida."

"Florida? Dreadful place."

"You've been?"

"No, but I hear the crime there is terribly unorganized."

Sebastian laughs for a minute, then says, "I don't know then. Maybe California."

"Too cold this time of year (it's January)."

"Right, right. Looks like I'm headed for Australia, then."

"Not without me, you aren't," Jim says, rushing to his closet to retrieve his suitcase.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm going with you."

"You're…why? I thought you had clients?"

"Rescheduled."

"But…"

"Do you not want me to go?"

"It's not that, it's just that I want to have fun."

Jim pauses and glares at Sebastian, "What exactly are you implying?"

Sebastian loses this discussion and the next day they arrive together in Sydney. Sebastian had already gotten his vacation started by leaving all of his suits at home and instead only packing jeans and swim shorts. It took a while to coax Jim to do the same, but eventually Sebastian won that discussion and once they're settled into their room, Sebastian convinces Jim to take his suit off and sport some more comfortable attire.

"I am comfortable," Jim pouts.

"We're on vacation."

"And as this being _my _vacation—"

"_Our_ vacation—"

"I can wear whatever I please."

"Fine," Sebastian says, pulling his jeans and shirt off.

"What are you doing?" Jim questions.

"Taking a late night dip in our private pool," Sebastian says, waltzing towards the sliding glass doors leading outside.

"L-like that?"

"Why not? _My _vacation."

Jim begins pulling his suit apart and following Sebastian outside, "_Our,_" he corrects.

The vacation continues with only a few minor hiccups. First, Sebastian fails to remind Jim to wear sunblock to the beach, so he gets sunburned. Second, Jim manages to convince himself that Sebastian didn't remind him of sunblock on purpose, so Jim childishly fills Sebastian's shaving crème can with honey. Third, while it took two days to figure out how Jim managed that, Sebastian took no time concocting revenge and he hid all of Jim's vitamins. Fourth, as payback again, Jim reset all of Sebastian's watches and clocks to London time and that alone somehow convinced the Londoner's body that is should be on London time, so Sebastian slept only the days for three days and was up all night for those nights. Fifth, Sebastian made Jim stay up the whole time with him.

Ok, that's more than a few minor hiccups, but these boys don't screw around when it comes to their new definition for vacation, which is, "Acting out of character." After the Australia vacation, Sebastian makes Jim promise company vacations at least quarterly, and Jim doesn't protest because damnit, he did have fun.

_***I am so, so, so sorry that it's taken this long to update. It's been a long week. I hope everyone else had a pleasant week, though! **_

_***This started out as a vacation fic and ended up as, "I'm-Not-Creative-Enough-To-Think-Of-More-Vacation-Spots-So-Write-In-ALL-The-Beaches!" I like the beach…**_

_***Anyway, thank you for reading and please tell me what you think! Ideas are grand as well. I promise to be loyal again, really. **_


	21. Chapter 21

_***HELLO! So this chapter and the next chapter go together, they're from the viewpoint of each character about their boyfriend. It's sappy and silly but I think I'll like it once I'm finished writing it. Enjoy **_

**Person 1**

"Honestly, son, you're not getting any younger. You ought to find someone settle down. Be happy, you deserve it."

He told her he was happy, but of course she won't be satisfied with my words until there's a ring on his finger. When he was fifteen she informed him that by thirty he's to have a wife and a son (had to be a son, of course) to carry on the family name, but he told her that about then was a good time to inform her that he likes _men, _and she said, "I know, dear, I just wanted to you _say _it. Now, Mrs. Wheeler down the street's got a nice son and we think he's one of your kind too…" The rest of the conversation is a blur because he did go out with Mrs. Wheeler's son and he was dreadfully boring.

Mycroft's mother told him to settle down and be happy six months ago. He kindly disagreed and left, but it's midnight on the morning of his 39th birthday and he's sitting on his couch with a glass of Scotch and nobody to share it with. Sometimes it hits him, that. It hits him that there's nobody here and nobody to share simple things like birthdays with. Sometimes he longs for someone, anyone.

Memories of past relationships hardly come to his mind. Mycroft's philosophy is that when it's done, it's done. It's helped him greatly; he adopted this philosophy when he was thirteen and Todd Berman kissed him behind the cafeteria, then four days later told him there was something wrong with him. Mycroft didn't know what was wrong with him, but he thought it better not to dwell.

His relationships have ended easily since then. _When it's time to walk away, I walk away_, he thinks. But nights like tonight are hard.

He goes to sleep alone and wakes up to his phone ringing seven hours later.

"Hello?"

"Mycroft?"

"Greg?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Mycroft sleepily rubs his eyes and checks his wrist watch. It reads 7 AM and he feels a sudden sense of panic. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine. It's just I…" Greg's voice trails off as if he's trying to find the words to say. He continues, "I'm just on my way to work and wanted to tell you Happy Birthday."

"You did?"

"Yeah. It's not much. I'm sure you've got plans later tonight, I just thought I'd—"

"I have no plans." Mycroft regrets the words as quickly as they spill out. A replay of a conversation his mother had with him when he was sixteen plays in his head. She had said, "When there's a boy, honey, you play hard to get. Drives them crazy." Mycroft didn't get it at the time and he didn't get it until that moment on the phone, approximately 33 years later.

"Oh, really?"

Mycroft decides to remain quiet. He doesn't know proper etiquette on agreeing or disagreeing. Mycroft silently asks himself why he is even thinking these things. This is _Greg, _for Christ's sakes. Greg. Mr. Lestrade. Detective Inspector. Sherlock's colleague. Nothing more. _We kissed once. He is married. Let it go, Mycroft._

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft's thoughts trail away because Greg's voice is enough to stop production up there. If it's an assembly line, the person in the direct middle takes lunch when it hears Greg's voice.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Like I was saying, though, I'd like to have dinner tonight."

"What? Why?"

"I…because…we're…you're…birthday."

Mycroft actually thinks Greg is going through a tunnel rather than tells himself Greg's nervous. _Why would Greg be nervous? _

"Alright."

"Great. See you around 7?"

"Perfect."

Around 7, Greg rings the doorbell to Mycroft's flat. Mycroft happily answers the door and sees Greg dressed in very nice clothes that looked new. He was impressed.

"I'm impressed," he says.

"Thank you. This is the tie you got me last Christmas."

"I hadn't noticed. Good choice."

They went to dinner at a nice restaurant because Greg knows that's Mycroft's thing, you know? Nice things. Mycroft wishes Greg wouldn't try so hard to impress him. Friends don't do that, and that's what they are: friends. _Just friends._

Suddenly, as Mycroft sees the words, "Just friends" in his head, he feels a sudden pain in his chest. _What am I doing? I don't want this. Anne's gone, she's been gone for months. He's my closest friend. And those kisses…they were…they weren't friend kisses. Not for two males. Enough is enough, Mycroft. This infatuation ends or progresses. _

Mycroft can't say anything right at that moment in fear of rejection in a restaurant. Greg looks content so their conversation continues. It's fun. Easy. So not tedious.

Mycroft knows fully well that everyone is capable of being dull. As a matter of fact, everyone _is _dull. But Greg is not everyone. Greg is the great anomaly.

Greg walks Mycroft back to his flat. Greg's making words that Mycroft's not listening to, because Mycroft is forming his own words that he wants to say now. Right now. In the middle of the sidewalk. Not quite to Mycroft's flat because if Greg rejects, then at least Mycroft's last memory of him in that flat will be fond.

"Greg, listen." Mycroft catches Greg's wrist and pulls him back. Greg doesn't retract his arm, Mycroft finds that a good sign. He lets go of Greg for good measure. "I want to be with you."

"Because I took you to dinner?"

"No! I mean, yes, in a way. It's that you care, I think, and I care about you. I always have. I know Anne just left and I'm not trying to take advantage, I promise. You're tall, and handsome, and you smell like Zest soap, coffee, and faintly of after shave. I've never noticed anything as mundane as the scent of another person, but you Greg…you're my favorite scent. All of this is really stupid and childish, but when I'm with you I feel like I'm eighteen again. Which is ridiculous, I'm an old man. You could go have any young lady you want, I know that. It's just…you're Greg. And you're so…" Mycroft pauses because now Greg is laughing. "What is it, why are you laughing?"

"You just told me I'm your favorite scent."

"Yes, and?"

Greg's still laughing and looks around the street. "Nothing. Come on, let's find dessert." Greg takes Mycroft's hand and leads him down the street.

Mycroft contently smiles and follows Greg. He didn't think confessing feelings would be difficult no matter how spontaneous they seemed. What was shockingly spontaneous was when Greg kissed him goodnight three times then left. Mycroft stood in his doorway baffled for five minutes, then went inside. He slept in the same shirt that night.

It smelled like Greg

**Person 2**

The thing about Sherlock Holmes is that he's so wildly unpredictable. I honestly don't think he even knows what his next move is in anything other than case work. Even John didn't anticipate this. Not that he'd have wanted to, John likes spontaneity.

So when Sherlock said, "Will you marry me?" John went, "Wait, what?"

Because _Sherlock _is Sherlock and _John _is John and neither is the other and neither knows what the other is thinking at all times.

Mostly.

So when Sherlock said, "Will you marry me?" he saw the words in a clear cloud in his mind. It mimicked evaporating cigarette smoke, which usually means that the thought's not there to linger long. It's an idea, it's a _should I do this or this?, _it's a fading thought that gets tossed into the recycle bin.

That is, of course, unless he says them and then they're stuck in the world forever.

Sherlock finishes the word, "me" and blinks at his plate. It's empty, which is unfortunate because he knew exactly how much was on the plate and exactly how much is going to make a second appearance on that plate if his nerves don't settle _now_. "Run" and "Quick" flash in cloud form in his head, but he lets them fade and stays sitting a still as possible.

"Wait, what?"

"I don't—"

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"Did I?"

"I think you did."

Sherlock continues staring at his plate. John hasn't said "No" which in Sherlock's mind is a good sign right about now. But John also hasn't said "Yes" which in Sherlock's mind is a horrendous sign right about now.

"Sherlock—"

"Don't."

"I was just going to—"

"You're going to kindly reject and I don't want to hear it."

Now Sherlock's mind is flashing "Run" and "Quick", so he does run. Quickly.

He wanders London for a good four hours. He knows John won't go after him, John's just as confused right now. But Sherlock momentarily pushes John out of his head and tries to think of ways to fix this (ok, he is thinking about John, but only transitively). He walks and walks.

Sherlock wasn't even aware he could have feelings for anyone until he met John. He'd lived his adult life happy and alone. There'd been a few here and there. He lived with a girlfriend for a while before she broke up with him because he didn't want to be intimate. It's just always been an issue for him.

Sherlock wasn't even aware he wanted to get married until today, until Molly rushed into Bart's this morning squealing, "I'm getting married, I'm getting married!" And Sherlock thought, _That's not fair. You've only been dating this man eight months. John and I have been together for years. _And suddenly he was eating dinner with John and blurting out the words, "Will you marry me?"

Sherlock thought about a time when he was six or seven years old and his mother was running late for her sister's wedding. She stopped rushing about and kneeled next to him to fix his tie. "One day, sweetie, you'll find a nice girl and you'll want to marry her." She wiped a curl away from his eyes and tidied his jacket, "Don't. Marriage is messy and ruins everything."

Sherlock knew fully well that his mother was just bitter because his father left not two years ago and they never got married, so at the time Sherlock said ok but then told himself he could get married one day, to whoever he wanted. When he was eight he wanted to marry their nanny, Elizabeth, and when he was eleven he wanted to marry his math tutor, Jeff (Mycroft had laughed at that but Sherlock got angry because Jeff would come over to visit Mycroft).

_Mummy's right, _Sherlock thinks, _marriage ruins everything. I like the way it is now. I have John. John has me. _

Sherlock walks along the street and a young couple approaches him.

"Excuse me," he stops them, "Are you two married?"

"Married? No, no!" they both exclaim.

He needs more evidence, though. He spots another couple coming his way and asks them the same.

"Yes, we are! Four years next month! Best thing that's ever happened!" they say.

Sherlock wants to find the first couple and ask them _why _they aren't married, but it's too late now. He decides to face what's going to happen at home and goes back. While walking, he asks himself if he wants to marry John. He's not sure. What he has is enough. Divorce is sticky. It's all too much for him.

When he gets home John's in bed. It's just after midnight and he knows John had a long day. He gets into bed next to John and tries not to wake John. Unfortunately, a butterfly could land on John's bed and John would wake.

"Sh'lock?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Figured as much."

"Go back to sleep."

"No. I'm up and we need to talk."

Sherlock swallows hard. John places a hand over his stomach and Sherlock eases at his touch. Not much, but it helps.

"Do you want to get married?" John asks.

"I…I don't know."

"Why did you ask?"

"Because I felt it. I felt so much love right at that moment. I usually do, John, but just then it was…it was intense."

"I understand. I get those impulses. Doesn't mean I go around proposing to people."

Sherlock chuckles, "It was a bit silly, wasn't it?"

"A bit, yeah."

"So, you don't want to?"

"I don't know, Sherlock. I love you more than anything, I promise I do. It's just…I've already got one under my belt. I don't want to hurt you—"

"You're not hurting me. I've got you. You're perfect and everything I want. You've got me, and I hope I'm what you want. We're happy. Right?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm content with not getting married. It's not like I'd ever planned to."

"What about Jeff?"

"How do you know about Jeff?"

"Mycroft told me about six years ago."

Sherlock huffs and mentally notes to get payback.

"C'mere." John lifts his arm to let Sherlock slide in. "Love you."

"I love you, too," Sherlock says, but he can tell John's already asleep. Sherlock kisses his cheek. John stirs and opens his eyes for a second, smiles, then goes back to sleep. Sherlock smiles and snuggles further into John's arms.

_Marriage? Overrated., _Sherlock thinks.

**Person 3**

"I'm cold."

"Stop complaining."

"But I'm cold."

"You're the one that made me get up at 4 AM to get this guy. Now, shut your fucking mouth and let me work."

Jim roles his eyes. He stares at Sebastian crouched into position with his gun under his arm and his eye looking down the scope.

_Why is that the sexiest image I have of him? This, just this, _Jim thinks.

"You're hot when you're stroppy, my dear." Jim says, smirking in Sebastian's direction.

"What did I say?"

"Sorry."

_How can he do that? So easily get me to say 'sorry'. I've never said sorry before, it's not what I do. But for him I'd apologize for anything I've ever done wrong. He should be a preacher, or something. I'd confess my damn sins._

"Is it time yet?" Jim asks.

"Oh my God, Jim, seriously. I'm grouchy, I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm tired. Shut up or I'm leaving."

Jim laughs. _There it is. He's been around a couple years now and he can still make me laugh. He's funny when he's angry. He's my favorite form of entertainment._

Jim leaves his post behind Sebastian and crouches next to him, peering out the window, his face right next to Sebastian's. "What are you looking at?" he whispers.

"I will punch you."

"I just want to see."

"Fine. But shut up. And don't move. Don't even breath."

Jim's breathing stills but once he inhales he catches Sebastian's scent and can't stop himself from taking a loud, deep breath. He closes his eyes. _How does he do that? He smells like anger in the form of spice. He smells like comfort in the form of my shampoo. He smells like happiness in the form of the glazed donut I bought him to make up for this. _Jim opens his eyes and looks at Sebastian's face. He smiles and opens his mouth to talk, but Sebastian's face snaps to his and Sebastian speaks first.

"Save it, please. Don't talk. Don't make any noise. I'm trying really hard to be really patient and you are not helping. So please, go sit over there."

Jim's stuck in the trance that is Sebastian's eyes. Jim's never been a sentimental 'Let me look into your eyes,' man, but when it comes to Sebastian he could drown in those baby blues. _All of my happiest memories can be connected to this man's eyes. When I was six and my mother took me to the park and got me a balloon. That balloon was this color, the color of this man's bloody eyes. When I was ten and my parents took me to the beach, the sky, the beach, the atmosphere around me were here, at this image I'm staring at. It's like I've been swimming in his eyes forever and I haven't even known._

Sebastian leans over and swiftly kisses Jim's lips. "Please?" His eyes flash into pleading for a minute and Jim can't say no. He steps back to lean against the wall behind them again.

In minutes a gunshot is heard all over and someone screams from below them. "Done?" Jim asks as Sebastian stands and begins dismantling his weapon.

"Bull's eye."

Jim smiles. Sebastian always says that after he makes a kill and Jim always smiles. _I love when he does that. Such a simple task as killing someone can brighten up my day, and he does it so perfectly. Now he smells like gunpowder and his deodorant is giving off that scent because of his increase of body heat. Marvelous. His eyes are like the sea after a storm, content and calm. Perfect, just perfect. I love this. I love him._

Jim pauses at his own thoughts. He makes a face of discomfort and shakes his head.

"You ok?" Sebastian asks, still packing his gun away.

_I love him. Shit, I actually love him._

Before Jim can think of anything else, Sebastian is standing chest to chest to him and looking concerned into his eyes. "I love you," Jim says.

Sebastian looks stunned and for a second Jim wants to embrace him, but he knows Sebastian needs to work this one out for himself. "Ok," Sebastian says after a minute. "Breakfast?" Sebastian asks, stepping past Jim and into the dark corridor.

_OK? BREAKFAST? Did that just…that just happened didn't it? I just got blown off. I don't get blown off. I am James Moriarty. Seb? Seb! _He walks quickly to catch up with Sebastian. Sebastian steps out into the cold and looks over at Jim. He smiles and continues walking. _This isn't over, _Jim thinks, following Sebastian into the busy London morning.

_***OK please, please, please tell me what you think of this one. I'm not sure I like it very much. It's pretty fluffy and I'm just not sure. Just let me know, ok? Thank you. Next chapter should be up by Thursday. **_

_***Also, I've recently updated my iTunes library and while listening I've found songs that remind me of each couple. I don't know why or how, it's hard to explain, it's just something, ok? So here's the songs for this chapter. It'd be Mycroft sort of to Greg, Sherlock to John (even though…) and Jim to Sebastian (this one really makes no sense): **_

**_-Coppertone by Hellogoodbye "_What could I ever do? What could I say? To cover up my concerns? To keep them at bay? Oh, then she said, "You spend too much time in your head." What could I ever do?" _I always feel like Mycroft would be skeptical about everything so he would, sort of, 'Spend too much time in your head…'_**

**_-The Girl by City and Colour "_I wish I could do better by you, 'cause that's what you deserve. You sacrifice so much of your life, In order for this to work." _Because in my headcanon John sacrificed a lot by letting his wife go so he could be with Sherlock again. _**

_**-Na Na Na …. by My Chemical Romance **_ _**"**_**Love, gimme love, gimme love****  
><strong>**I don't need it, but I'll take what I want from your heart…" **_**It just kind of fit to me.**_

***_Long A/N. SOOOOO SORRY! Remember, let me know what you think pleeeeeease _**


	22. Chapter 22

**Person 1**

To be honest, Greg never expected any of this. He never in his wildest dreams thought he'd be _this _happy after a divorce, but Mycroft certainly proved him wrong. They've been together a few months now, almost a year maybe, they've been taking everything extremely slowly and that's ok. They're not going anywhere.

It's the first summer since the divorce, which is Greg's first three-month summer with his daughters. He is very excited and at the same time very nervous; this is the first time Mycroft will meet the girls, too. Greg pushes his nerves away on time to pick the girls and his ex-wife up from the airport.

He takes the girls back to his flat, not Mycroft's, because it's still so early and he doesn't want to make the girls have to go through more change than they need to. Mycroft's not there and won't be until they have dinner later that night. Greg sets the girls up, then the three of them sit on the couch so Greg can explain everything that's going on.

"Girls," Greg begins, "You know that Mum and I got divorced, right? That's why you live in Australia now, with her. You understand what that all means by now, right?"

The girls nod. The younger girl, Lucy, looks confused. She's only six and Greg doesn't expect her to get everything, he's not even sure she gets _why _they're having a serious discussion right now.

"And you know that Mum and I love you, right? Very, very much."

The girls nod again.

"And you know that the time will come when Mum and I might like other people, right? We might date other people and—"

"Like Andy?" Greg's older daughter Lindsay asks.

"Who's Andy?"

"Mum's boyfriend."

"Mum's…have you met Andy?"

"Yeah."

"Is he nice?"

"He's kind of weird."

"Weird? How?"

"He doesn't like talking to us."

"He doesn't…" Greg trails off and sighs before he gets too angry. He rubs his eyes and looks at the girls again, "Alright. Ok. Now, you know the time _has _come when I've met someone, and I hope that tonight—"

"That man?"

"What man?"

"The man mom says took you from her."

"Now, hold on, ok? Nobody took me away from Mum and nobody took Mum away from me," he tells them, even though he knows the bit about their mother isn't true, "He didn't take me away from her at all, alright?"

They nod.

"Has anyone got any questions?" Greg's nervous and he thinks about now's a good time for Q&A.

"Mum says you're a fairy now," Lindsay says.

"When did she say that?"

Lindsay shrugs. She looks away from Greg like she knows she shouldn't have told on her mother.

"Did she say that to you?" Greg knows his voice is raised and he doesn't mean for it to be.

"No. She said it to Andy. She also said a different word that starts with an 'f', but I can't remember. Fu-fu-"

Greg cuts her off because he knows where this is going, "Listen to me, ok? Your mother isn't using kind language. Remember all of our discussions about kind language? Those are things we don't say to people, to any people."

The girls nod.

"Anything else?"

Lindsay thinks for a minute then asks, "So you've got a boyfriend now?"

Greg nods, "That is correct."

"And Mum's got a boyfriend."

"Correct."

"And you're a boy."

"Yes, I am."

"Who's got a boyfriend?"

"Yes," Greg nods again, "How do you feel about that?"

Lindsay shrugs, "Once Mum said boys should have girlfriends and girls should have boyfriends."

"What do you think?"

"I think boys can have boyfriends. Hannah's Mum's got a girlfriend and that's ok, too. Right, Daddy?"

"Absolutely. What about you, Lucy?"

His younger daughter looks up at him and touches his hand, "Do you love him, Daddy?"

He smiles and bashfully turns his head. It's an odd thing to talk to his daughters, he thinks, but he's happy to provide them with answers they need. "I do, yeah. But I love you, too, ok? You guys first, alright?"

They nod. Lucy asks, "Do you kiss him, Daddy?"

He laughs, "A few times."

They both squeal, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew!" And Lucy says, "Don't you know boys have cooties, Dad!"

Greg feels like the talk goes well and they meet Mycroft for dinner. Pleasantries are made and all through dinner Mycroft talks to the girls if they talk to him, he knows they're a bit shy. If they talk to Greg, he doesn't impede on Greg's time talking to them. Greg notices this after Mycroft's quiet for a while. He tries to change subjects so Mycroft is more involved, and after a while everyone's warmed up and acquainted enough to have full, continuous conversation.

After dinner they take the girls for ice cream. Greg watches as Mycroft and Lucy, who's taken a special liking to Mycroft, are trying to make a selection while Mycroft helps Lucy read the menu board. Greg smiles and feels complete joy, for the first time in a long time he feels like he's complete. Mycroft catches him watching them and he smiles at Greg, then his attention is back to Lucy when Lucy tugs on his hand and informs him she's made a decision.

They agree it's best for Mycroft to stay at his own house for some time while the girls are with Greg. They don't want to overstep too many boundaries. When it's time for Mycroft to leave, Lucy feels personally hurt and Greg has to remind her a thousand times that she'll see Mycroft as often as he can while they're in London. She finally agrees and Mycroft goes home.

Later that night, after Greg's got the girls in bed, Mycroft calls and they have their nightly chat.

"Dinner went well." Greg says.

"It did, didn't it?"

"Lucy's quite smitten with you."

"And Lindsay?"

"She'll warm up, trust me."

"I hope it's not because—"

"It's not."

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

"You were going to say you hope it's not because you're a man. It's not."

Mycroft laughs, "Alright. If you say she'll warm up I'm sure she will."

Greg silently smiles for a few minutes then begins, "I had a great time tonight, you know? I finally felt…complete. There's always been a missing piece and it's my girls. They mean so much to me, and you mean so much to me, and together it all felt so surreal, almost like a dream. I didn't think I could be happy again after she took them and you've proved me wrong, Mycroft. I love you."

Mycroft is silent while Greg talks, when he's finished he says, "I love you, too."

"I would have never introduced them to anybody I didn't feel this much for. You're lucky, really, because if I didn't like you so much you'd not be seeing me for three months."

Mycroft chuckles, "Lucky me."

"Lucky us."

The rest of the three months go well. Lindsay warms up after about a week and after about a month the girls begin to question where Mycroft lives and what he does. They make a trip to Mycroft's flat, but the job was too much for Greg to explain. All in all, his little family is complete for a while and he loves it.

**Person 2**

Somewhere between shooting cabbies and almost blowing up in a pool, John Watson managed to get himself in love with Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't a huge, "I must shout from the rooftops!" love, but John knew all along that it was there. A person like Sherlock Holmes only comes around _once, _and John thought it was a special blessing from above that he was thrown onto Sherlock's doorstep.

John never said anything, of course. What could he say to this magnificent creature that was so far above love and the boringness of loving someone? John thought Sherlock would surely laugh in his face. _Then again, _thought John, countless times, _he did think I was coming on to him that night at Angelo's. And he never disagrees with anyone when they assume we're together. And obviously…obviously he's got to be interested in…_not _women…_

But John never said anything. He was actually quite good at not saying anything. To boys, of course. John thinks he has a way with women, he knows he's attractive and he's got that war wound to show off to make women swoon. But he's never been good with talking to men.

The fear of men developed when he was about 16 and there was that one boy. He thought for sure the boy was interested in him, for sure that boy wanted him too. John told the boy how he felt and the boy left and never spoke to John again. John had the same fear with Sherlock, even though it was almost 20 years later and the two parties involved are mature, responsible adults.

Well, mostly.

John knew he was special to Sherlock, and that was enough for him. He knew there was a reason Moriarty kidnapped _him, _there was a reason Mycroft knew _he _was the man to bribe for information on Sherlock, there was a reason Molly never remembered _his _name. Altogether, he just knew.

After John's girlfriend left on Christmas, he knew that he needed to tell Sherlock how he felt. John knew he couldn't keep going on with that huge secret. But Sherlock came home and huffed and was annoyed with John and John sat back and thought, _Nevermind. I'm making it all up. He doesn't…how could I have thought…I hoped…no. This stops now._

And he never told Sherlock how he felt.

And Sherlock went and jumped off a building.

And John regretted never saying those words because maybe something would be different. Maybe Sherlock would have reciprocated, maybe Sherlock would have ended everything with Moriarty. _Although, highly unlikely. _Everything could have changed.

And then John met Mary. On their first date John talked about Sherlock. Mary understood, she'd lost her husband a while back. John wanted to tell her she didn't understand, but this was the first woman he'd seen since Sherlock died and he didn't want to screw things up, because he knew that if someone was good enough to push past the Sherlock barriers, she was worth keeping around.

Until Sherlock rose from the dead and she didn't push past the barriers anymore. One night, John and Mary got in a fight because he was out running around with Sherlock again and came home very, very late.

"You're lucky I came home at all," John said, very irritated. He didn't mean to say it, but he didn't feel like filtering anything anymore.

"Oh, just go back to him, John. It's obvious you still love him."

"Is it? Is it obvious? Because he's been back quite a while and I'm still—"

"Still here? Is that what you are? Coming home at random hours and disappearing at even more random hours. It's like I don't exist, John. I am your wife. Your _wife. _He's your—"

"My what, Mary?"

Mary paused and stared at John. He looked hurt and tired and in possibly more pain than her, because she was losing her husband but he was fighting to maintain his wife and the man he loves. He was the one having to choose, and he was the one that wouldn't just _choose_. So Mary chose for him. "He's the love of your life."

John stopped. She was right, she was absolutely right, but he had a responsibility to her now and he needed to keep that alive. He stepped toward her, "Mary, I—"

"No, John, it's alright. Go to him. You need him more."

John left and she didn't let him turn back. Not that he ever would. With Sherlock back, hell, it's a wonder John even knew the world was still turning.

That was years ago and John knows he shouldn't think about it much anymore, but sometimes he wonders what would have happened had he stayed with Mary that night. He'd probably see Sherlock less, and eventually not at all. John knows he'd probably have been miserable, and he does feel a sting of regret leaving Mary like that, but John loves Sherlock and has forever, it feels like.

And it helps a lot that Sherlock loves him, too. Had it not been shared, John would have gone on wishing and longing and hoping for Sherlock to love him, but he doesn't have to do that anymore. Now, he wakes up tangled in the long lives of the long detective; he kisses those plump lips goodnight and goodmorning and 'Good-8:53-AM-Just-For-The-Hell-of-It' and 'Good-4:21-PM-Because-You-Smell-Good-Today'; he tells Sherlock he loves him any chance he gets and he probably won't stop because he's got a lot of lost time to make up for.

**Person 3**

_I honestly hate him, _Sebastian thinks. _I wish there was someone on this planet to remind me _why _I'm with him and _why _I even know him, because damn it that person has some answers for me._

Sebastian slams his blankets back and slams himself off the couch (yes, it is possible to slam yourself off the couch). He goes to the kitchen, where Jim is opening every single cabinet and slamming it shut (lots of slamming occurring).

"What the hell are you doing?" Sebastian demands. Jim ignores him. Sebastian tries again, "I asked, what the hell are you doing?"

"I heard you!" Jim shouts.

"Then…"

"I'm trying to find the cheese grater!"

Sebastian stomps to the cabinet closest to Jim, opens it, pulls out the cheese grater, slams the cabinet, slams the grater onto the countertop, and storms back to their room. He quickly gets dressed and leaves without saying anything to Jim. It's 11 in the morning and he has no idea where to go, so he goes to his favorite bar (even though he can't drink).

Sebastian has three friends: Sienna (who he doesn't really count because he doesn't want to know about her boyfriends, why would she want to know about his?), Jim (and, let's face it, would you want James Moriarty to be your friend?), and whatever poor bastard is at the bar when Sebastian needs to talk. Right now, it's an elderly gentleman by the name of Bernie and the bartender, Cooper. Cooper likes Sebastian; he milks that fact down to the last drop of free _whatever_.

"Gimme a coke. Little bit of gin," Sebastian says, pulling his coat off and sitting down.

Twenty minutes later he's on his third Coke (just coke, Cooper knows better) and going on and on about his dick of a boyfriend.

"And THEN," he continues to Bernie, "He doesn't understand property! What's mine is mine, what his is his, that's it, that's how it goes! That's my shampoo in the bathroom, you used the last of yours yesterday! That's my razor, that's just gross! That's my blanket! That's my body hear! And another thing, he doesn't get personal space! If his feet are cold, he'll go right on ahead and shove his stupid little toes up my ass!"

"Like it's that bad…" Cooper adds.

Sebastian pauses and smiles, "Yeah, well," then he continues, "He just drives me freakin' _insane _all the time!"

"What did you fight about this time?" Cooper asks.

Sebastian sighs, "It's stupid."

"Try me."

"He broke the toaster six months ago."

"Six months ago?"

"Yes! Well, no! That wasn't _it, _it's that he broke the toaster and played it off like nothing happened. What happened was he bloody _shot _the toaster. Well, don't tell anybody, but that's what happened. It was actually kind of funny, I—"

"Six months ago?"

"Yes! Well, no! Then he bought me a suit."

"He…_bought_ you a suit."

"Yes! I hate when he does that!"

"You hate when he buys you things?"

"Yes! Drives me mad! I like to wear what I want when I want! Hell, if I want to wear nothin' right now, he shouldn't tell me no."

"Please keep your clothes on, Seb."

"Thought you liked me." Sebastian says, sipping his Coke.

"I do, but I'll be forced to stop serving you."

"Fair enough," Sebastian takes the last swig of his Coke and orders another. Then he tells Bernie, "Then, after he bought the suit, he set my bed on fire!"

"He did what?" Cooper asks, honestly alarmed. "Were you in it?"

"No, no! He was trying to be romantic! Ha! Him. Romantic."

Cooper laughs, "Looks like he actually tries sometimes, Seb."

"Tries? Never."

"So he broke the toaster? So what?"

"It's not just the toaster! It's that he treats me like a child! And he takes advantage of what I'll do for him."

"Why do you think he takes advantage of you?"

Sebastian faintly smiles into his glass, "Because I love him."

"I thought you hate him."

"Of course not! I love him, Coop." Sebastian rests his head on his arms on the bar. He looks up after a minute, then continues, "I love him because he smells good and he looks nice in his suits and he gives me this weird pain my chest, and I _hate _it, but I love it so much! He's nice sometimes, he really is. Sometimes he makes me breakfast. I think that's what he was trying to do when he woke me up this morning, but I was still angry from last night."

"What happened last night?"

"He punched me in the face."

"He did what?"

"No, no! I punched him first, I promise. He made me angry, so I punched him. So he punched me. So I slept on the couch. But I looooove him, Coop!"

"I know you do," Cooper nods his head towards the entrance of the bar, "I'm sure he does, too."

"Hello, Jim! I love you!" Sebastian shouts at Jim as Jim makes his way to Sebastian and wraps his arm around his waist, trying to pull him off the stool.

"I think this whole bar knows, kid!" Bernie shouts.

Sebastian laughs. "Hello, Jim."

"You couldn't have cut him off?" Jim asks Cooper, picking up Sebastian's glass and sniffing it.

"It's just Coke, he hasn't had any alcohol."

"You are a liar!" Sebastian shouts at Cooper. Cooper defensively raises his arms as Jim takes Sebastian to the door. They get outside and Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim's neck. Jim tries to pull away but Sebastian follows where Jim's head is moving and he catches Jim's cheek with his lips. "I love you." He tells Jim.

"I know, I know."

"And?"

"And I love you, too."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

Jim looks Sebastian in the eye, "Do we have to do this now?"

"We do."

Jim continues looking in Sebastian eyes, takes hold of the back of Sebastian's head, pulls Sebastian close, and kisses him. Neither are ones for public displays of affection, but the street is relatively clear, so Jim deepens the kiss using his hand on the back of Sebastian's head as leverage.

They kiss for a few minutes. It's deep and loving and so much is transferred in that amount of time. They understand each other, they understand it all.

When Jim breaks away, he looks at Sebastian again and asks, "Alright?"

Sebastian smiles and says, "Alright." He gives Jim one last quick peck, then Jim calls a cab.

Sebastian recovers from his Coke-induced intoxication and falls asleep for a few hours. In their bed. Clutching Jim's pillow. Jim can't stop himself from snapping a photo and using it as his caller-ID for Sebastian.

_***Thank you sooooo much for the lovely reviews last chapter. I really appreciated it because I was really, really unsure. Reviews for this chapter would be great, too, because I'm not sure how you guys will feel about the Greg bit. Anyway, thank you so much!**_

_***In case you want to know a song for this group of men, I have a little bit of a selection:**_

**_-For Greg to Mycroft I chose, _Light a Roman Candle With Me by Fun. _"__Just spend an evening with me.__Just a lazy evening, then you could be leaving__, __or we could stay and talk until three.__I will think it's magic and I'll hope you'll agree, so..." then "At least we would know that the sparks didn't glow__  
><em>_but we owe it to ourselves to try,__so we aim and ignite!" This song is just very hesitant toward love and I think that's what Greg and Mycroft were before they actually got together._**

**_-For John to Sherlock I chose two songs: _You Belong to Me by Cobra Starship_ "__I'm coming home and I know it won't be long__  
><em>_Before you belong, you belong to me…" I've always thought this song reminded me of John and Sherlock. The second song is _The Thoughts That Give Me The Creeps by Hellogoodbye, "_Oh no, what if I never knew your name?__Oh my god, the thought's insane__. __What if your love is not the same. As it seems inside my brain?__What if you're not really in my sheets?__Oh, just the thought gives me the creeps…" You should really hear the song. It reminds me of this John chapter a lot._**

_**-For Sebastian to Jim I decided to not choose **_**Hate by The Plain White T's **_**and instead chose **_**Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost, "**_**I don't think there is anyone under your skin, Like a Cheshire cat I think that you are just a grin, And I can feel you laughing, under my skin. And the happy palpitations are making me... grin.**__**" This line is just…I don't know! It reminds me of James Moriarty. **_

_***Anyway, sorry for the long A/N again. Feedback is so much appreciated! **_


	23. Chapter 23

**Couple 1**

It really isn't often that Greg has to actually _ask _for something from Mycroft. Greg wants to go to a football match? Fine. Greg wants Mycroft to go shopping with him? If he must. Greg wants to stay home all day and do nothing? He'll push some things around. But there is one thing, just one thing that Mycroft will absolutely not agree to.

"Mycroft, can we get a dog?"

"Absolutely not."

Greg's fight didn't end there. Sure, he let it go and didn't say anything more _that time, _but when he asked again two weeks later, Greg pushed the discussion.

"Mycroft, can we get a dog?"

"Absolutely not," Mycroft said, not taking his eyes off the newspaper in front of him.

"Why not?"

"They're loud, they smell, they're needy—"

"You're loud, you smell, and you're needy."

Mycroft glared at Greg, "Mature, Greg."

"What? I'm just trying to have a bit of fun. I want a dog."

"That's too bad, darling, because I don't want a dog."

"I thought you said when I moved in that it is _our _house. Together. To share. With all of our things."

"I said that."

"So, if I bought a dog, he'd be my thing—"

"No."

Greg let it go then, but two weeks later tried one last time.

"I'm going to buy a dog anyway."

"You will sleep on the street. With your damn dog."

"At least he'd be a companion that loves me. Man's best friend, right?"

"I'm not a loving companion?"

Greg kissed Mycroft quickly and continued with the dishes. "I'm just saying, it'd be nice to have another body around here."

Three and a half weeks later, Greg doesn't wait to have the discussion. He buys a dog named Sam and takes him home. As soon as he gets there and gets Sam settled, he's called to a scene and has to leave the dog there. He's a good dog, Greg was told, so Greg confidently leaves the dog alone.

Mycroft gets home only half an hour later and sees the dog perched on the sofa with a bone between his paws. Mycroft pauses in the doorway and looks around. When Greg's nowhere to be seen, Mycroft takes his phone out of his pocket and phones Greg. Greg doesn't answer, so Mycroft leaves a ten second message, "You're sleeping on the street."

Greg doesn't call Mycroft back and instead heads home after checking the message. He's not surprised to see Mycroft sitting on the opposite end of the sofa than Sam and Sam sitting staring at Mycroft. He's staring at Mycroft like he _so badly _wants to sit on Mycroft's lap.

"Gregory." Mycroft says as Greg enters the living room.

"Mycroft." Greg replies. Sam looks up and excitedly wags his tail. "Sam." Greg says.

"Is that what he's called?" Mycroft asks without looking at Greg.

"That's what his collar says."

"I didn't bother to check."

"Evidently."

"It doesn't have to be this way, Greg. You could ask to get a reptile or something, I'd probably say, 'Sure, why the hell not?', but instead you get this animal without even checking with me—"

"I'm sorry that I didn't feel like I had to check. I've lived here three months, Mycroft, and before that I'd lived here half the time for years. However, you've somehow made me feel like I don't live here. Like I'm just some tenant. Sorry I didn't ask permission in _your _house."

Mycroft stands and for the first time looks at Greg, "Now, wait a minute. I did not mean it that way and you know that. We don't live alone anymore, Greg. We make decisions _together._"

Greg thinks it over for a minute, then replies, "I'm sorry. You're right. I just…really wanted a dog."

Mycroft glances at Sam, then at Greg. They seem to have the same pleading look on their face and Mycroft can't bring himself to say no. Greg hugs Mycroft, then goes to the couch to hug Sam. Sam's about a medium sized dog that can fit himself on Greg's lap perfectly. Greg loves it.

Three weeks later, Greg's not loving it so much. Mycroft is very, very angry because Sam has chewed up three of Mycroft's shoes (not in pairs) and has taken to playing with clothes or pillows that are in his reach. Greg hasn't seemed to mind (they're not his clothes or shoes) until Sam finally takes Greg's favorite pair of shoes (yes, the pair this time) and destroyed them well beyond repair.

"Now do you see!" Mycroft shouts at Greg as Greg holds back shouting at Sam.

"Yeah, fine, I get it now."

"Thank you!"

"What do you want me to do about it? I can't take him back!"

"Yes you bloody well can."

"That's awful, Mycroft. I adopted him, I have a responsibility."

"That was before he ate our belongings."

"He's a dog, Mycroft, cut him some slack."

"So, you want to keep him now?"

Greg pauses and glances at Sam, "Well…"

"No!"

It takes three days for Greg to find a second owner: young Jane lives three floors down and desperately wanted a dog. Greg reluctantly handed Sam's belongings over and said goodbye for the last time.

"Maybe we'll see each other again, old pal." Sam licks his cheek and Greg gives Jane the leash.

As they walk away, Mycroft places his arm around Greg's shoulders. "See?" He says, "That wasn't so bad. Sam has a nice home and a nice family."

"I guess you're right."

"And you'll see him again. It's not like we shipped him away. He's just downstairs."

"I know that."

"I'll buy you a fish."

Greg's eyes lit up, "Oh, really!"

"Wow, that was a lot of excitement. Yes, really."

Mycroft made this promise but what he didn't expect was Greg buying a whole freakin' aquarium. Mycroft should have seen it coming; one little fish obviously wasn't going to do. But he likes the fish and he thinks they make a nice, colorful addition to the living room.

**Couple 2**

Not long after Greg's daughters visited did John begin with the talk of having a baby. Sherlock broke it to him that he wasn't going to have children, and though it made John very, very sad, he agreed. Sherlock felt awful, and as a gift he got John a dog. John named him Gladstone and the three have been very happy since.

Sherlock claims to not like Gladstone. On the outside looking in, it would look very much like Sherlock does not like Gladstone. However, John sees the core of it all and know that Sherlock loves that little dog.

Exhibit A of Reasons Why Sherlock Secretly Loves Gladstone is this: Sherlock will share his food with Gladstone. Now, Sherlock doesn't eat much. Even without a case his appetite is pretty limited, but every day John will make Sherlock sit down at the table and have dinner. If Sherlock eats or not is a different issue, but he sits with a plate in front of him nonetheless. The thing about Exhibit A is that even if Sherlock's starving enough to eat his eyeballs, he'll still pick off bits and pieces and drop them to the floor for the dog. John hates it, he thinks the dog's getting fat, but it doesn't stop Sherlock.

Exhibit B of Reasons Why Sherlock Secretly Loves Gladstone is that if Sherlock's napping on the couch, he'll let the dog lay with him. Twice John has caught them snuggling. The thing about this is that Sherlock won't let the dog sit on the couch if Sherlock's awake and taking up all the space, however if he's asleep Sherlock will actually make room for the little animal. And Gladstone will sit anywhere; on Sherlock's back, in Sherlock's arms, hell, the dog can make itself comfortable between Sherlock's legs.

Exhibit C of Reasons Why Sherlock Secretly Loves Gladstone is that Sherlock will not punish the animal. Gladstone, like most dogs, likes to take Sherlock's belongings and chew them to bits. Sherlock still will not punish him. It started out with the simple explanation of, "He's _your _dog, John. You punish him." But more recently he just says, "Eh, I'll buy a new pair of shoes." And John says, "Sherlock, that's not the solution. The solution is something like don't let him sleep on the couch or _between us in our bed _(which is where Gladstone is now)." And Sherlock says, "Oh? Gladstone, scoot." And he pushes the dog to the foot of the bed. "Stay." Sherlock commands, and the dog stays. "There." Sherlock says, tucking himself under the covers and dozing.

Exhibit D of Reasons Why Sherlock Secretly Loves Gladstone is that the dog is so smitten with Sherlock it's almost sickening. Much like Gladstone's technical owner, the dog will sit down and shut up when the man is talking. He'll sit and stare and John will be damned if the dog doesn't lick his lips every five seconds, too. The dog will fall in line behind Sherlock when he's pacing, he'll sit quietly if Sherlock's in thinking mode, and the dog will even follow Sherlock into the loo if Sherlock doesn't shoo him out. If Sherlock is on a rant about a case or anything, really, Gladstone will bark a reply and Sherlock will reply back. Really, John knows Gladstone's an excellent skull substitute.

Exhibit E of Reasons Why Sherlock Secretly Loves Gladstone is that, even though Sherlock will absolutely deny it, John knows Sherlock likes taking Gladstone on walks when John's not there. Sherlock will claim it's a simple necessity because the dog can't go to the bathroom in the house, it only makes sense to walk him when needed, but John knows Sherlock's just as capable of laying down a few old newspapers or something. John thinks Sherlock enjoys getting out and walking their dog because, well, John can't think of a reason but he knows Sherlock enjoys it.

What was the point I'm trying to make? Oh, right. It's that Sherlock Holmes is a big fat lair and he loves their dog as much as their dog loves him (the dog loves him more than he loves John, and you know _technically _he is John's dog). John thinks all of it is absolutely adorable (except that time John yelled at Sherlock and Gladstone bit his leg. "Mutany!" John shouted and stormed out of the flat.). John knows they've formed an unspoken alliance against him, but that's ok, because John might pop out and get Sherlock a puppy, too, that way he could take over _Sherlock's _puppy and they can have an alliance (yeah, right, that animal will love Sherlock, too).

**Couple 3**

"Let's get a dog, Seb."

"Ok."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Jim shrugs and continues reading a book.

"Why don't we get a cool animal?" Sebastian asks, not looking up from the newspaper. "Like a shark."

"A shark, Seb?"

"Villains always have sharks."

"We are not villains, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Sorry, sorry. But really, sharks would be bad ass."

"No sharks."

"Let's get a snake."

"A _snake?_"

"Yeah. You know," Sebastian mimics a snake with his arm and slithers at Jim.

"A snake, huh? That sounds…exotic."

"It could be exotic."

They get a snake. It goes well. They're very happy with their snake. They call it Sebastian Jr. All is well.

Until…

"What do you mean you _lost _the snake?" Sebastian yells into the phone.

"Well…"

"How do you _lose _a snake? WHERE do you _lose _a snake?"

"In the flat…"

"In the…" Sebastian pulls away from the receiver so he can angrily laugh (it's possible). "You lost our snake _in _the flat."

"Yeah…but don't worry—"

"How? How should I not worry?"

"I've got it under control," Jim says right before hanging up.

Sebastian doesn't waste any time getting a cab and getting home. When he gets there, Jim is standing on the sofa with his pants tucked into his socks and holding a frying pan.

Sebastian sighs, "You haven't caught it yet?"

"Yeah, Seb, I'm doing this for fun."

Sebastian shrugs his coat off and tucks his jeans into his socks, too.

"You went to see a client like that? Why didn't you wear the suit I bought you last—"

"Is now really the time, Jim?" Sebastian asks, getting on his hands and knees and peering under the couch.

"He might be in the kitchen." Jim says.

"Then why are you on the sofa?"

Jim doesn't answer.

"Are you scared?" Sebastian teases.

"No. Of course not."

"Oh, of course not." Sebastian laughs. Sebastian goes into the kitchen to look. "How did you lose him, anyway?" he asks.

"I was cleaning his cage—"

"I told you to let me do it."

"I know, I was just trying to help."

"Thanks, but next time—"

"There won't be a next time if we can't find it."

"Did you check all the rooms?"

"No."

"Are you kidding? How long's he been missing?"

"A few hours."

"And how long have you been standing on the sofa?"

Jim hesitates, "A little less than a few hours."

"You never seize to amaze me. Go check our room."

Jim leaves the kitchen and goes to their room. He checks the floors, the closet, and he's about to sit on the bed when he sees the sheets move. "S-Seb!" He shouts.

Sebastian appears next to Jim instantly. "Aww, you found him!" Sebastian says, kissing Jim's cheek and going to the bed. "Here Seb Jr. Here Sebby, Sebby, Sebby…" Sebastian delicately pulls the sheets back to reveal the snake. He takes it with both hands and lets it wrap itself around his arms. "Where's the tank?" Jim takes him to the spare bathroom bathtub. The tank is uncleaned. "You didn't even clean it?"

"I panicked!"

"Well, we've got him back now." Sebastian lays the snake back in his tank and takes the tank to the living room. "All better. Now," he turns to Jim, "What are we not going to do anymore?"

"Clean the tank without you here."

"And?"

"And we're not going to panic because he's a harmless snake." Jim recites as if he's said it a million times (only a thousand, but Sebastian's not counting).

"Good," Sebastian says, taking Jim into his arms. "He's just a harmless snake. And once more, he was your idea."

"Seb?"

"Mmmm?"

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah, he bit me," Sebastian says, letting Jim go and picking up the tank, "We better take him back."

"Yeah, we'd better." Jim agrees.

They don't get a different snake then, but Sebastian's now working towards that shark.

_***Thank you for all the lovely reviews last chapter! I appreciate it very much. I'm just an uploading machine tonight. I hope everyone likes this chapter. Review, always the reviews are good!**_

**_*The story of how John and Sherlock got Gladstone and Sherlock and John's past pets are in _All Their Differences Ch. 20. _Thank you! _**


	24. Chapter 24

**Couple 1**

They are both fully aware that they are men.

Attractive men, at that.

They are both fully aware of the attraction to the other.

Painfully aware.

But for some strange reason, when it comes to seduction, both men fail miserably.

Some nights they'll go for a nice meal and the 'before-sleep' process is obvious, unless the other makes it so clear that he's not in the mood tonight. Some steps might be taken like: 1) providing clear and reasonable but not straightforward reasons why tonight's not a good night; 2) talking about work and how swamped he was all day; 3) talking about work and how swamped he'll be tomorrow; 4) in come instances (not often) bluntly stating how tonight just isn't a good night. The other man will agree and say, "It's alright, I know you're tired," or something meaningful like that and their nice date night will end with a light kiss, maybe a hug, and gentle snores.

Some nights they'll stay in and order dinner. These are the tricky nights when neither man knows whether or not he should initiate…'before-sleep' processes. One might commence a kiss, which turns into more kisses, which might turn into being whisked away to bed. Or kissing might turn into "We really should finish the dishes." Sometimes kissing continues after kisses. Sometimes they sit down and watch TV. Sometimes it's already late so they'll wash up and head to bed.

Some nights (tonight), they'll stay in and have a terribly confusing evening because on nights like this they're pals, old work buddies, a friend of a friend. It's weird and neither knows how to initiate 'before-sleep' rituals.

They're having dinner and conversation is just like one of a friend, not a man you've been living with for some time now and there's honestly no reason you should be nervous around him, but they both are.

"So, how was work?" Mycroft asks, helping himself to salad.

"It was alright."

"Anything interesting?"

"Not today, actually. Nothing out of the normal."

"Did you see Sherlock today?"

"I did."

"How was he?"

"Is this like that time you tried to ask me a lot of questions about him so that you could fulfill your brotherly duties and 'know how he's doing,' but really you're just—"

"I'm just asking, Greg."

"Oh. Alright. He was fine."

"Good."

Greg waits a few minutes then asks, "What about you? How was work?"

"It was fine."

"Anything interesting?"

"Of course, but I can't tell you."

"Most couples share secrets."

"_Most _couples are allowed to do something different than _most _couples. This can be out different thing."

"I thought our different thing was that we're two men."

"In that department, we're not as different as you may think."

They continue eating and having boring, normal conversation. After dinner, Greg clears the table and tries to have side conversation as he hums along to the water running. Mycroft dries the dishes that Greg washes even though their kitchen has a dishwasher. Greg thinks it provides good 'us-time', and only recently did Mycroft stop filling the dishwasher after Greg goes to bed.

After dishes they sit on the couch and both know by now that it's one of those weird nights. They haven't slept together in a few days and by now the other knows that the other wants to, but they're both strange when it comes to this. Greg doesn't know what comes over him when he gets nervous, he's never been nervous with anyone before. But this is Mycroft, he isn't just the average-joe.

They watch TV for a while and finally, Greg stands and announces he's going to take a shower and head to bed.

"What, now? It's 9:00." Mycroft asks.

"I know, but…"

"But what?"

Greg sighs and rolls his eyes, "But I don't know what to say or how to act, and it's 9 o'clock and I'm bored. Now, are you going to sit there and look pretty or are you going to follow me into our bedroom?"

Mycroft sits and stares for a minute, then shuts the TV off and follows Greg.

Some nights it fits perfect and some nights it's less perfect, but somehow they both end up where they want to be.

**Couple 2**

Like every other tendency and necessity that humans face daily, Sherlock has a way of turning off his sex drive. This was easy when he was alone, he never had a need for it. But that was until he came back and John told him he loved him. Then they worked to get Sherlock's drive back, and for a while it was back and thriving. It was like being a teenage boy again, which was all fine and good until John actually didn't think it was fine and good. Then Sherlock tamed it and now they're at a healthy place where Sherlock can control it and sometimes controls it so well that it's game when he wants to deprive John (well, it was until John got really angry at it being a _game _and Sherlock had to promise to stop it).

Sherlock has the ability to push it away so he can think better (like the needs to eat and sleep). Fortunately, John has the ability to not need it either, so when Sherlock's on a case he waits it out patiently until Sherlock's ready and they continue on like normal.

Unfortunately, Sherlock's case has been going on for twenty-two days and ends while John is at work. This means Sherlock has three options: waiting; masturbating; texting John to tell John to get home _now_. Option three seems the most appealing, doesn't it?

**To: John Watson 12:57 PM**

_I am initiating intercourse._

**From: John Watson 1:03 PM**

_Finished the case then?_

**To: John Watson 1:05 PM**

_Yes. And I'd like you to come home now._

**From: John Watson 1:10 PM**

_No. I'm busy._

**To: John Watson 1:12 PM**

_But I've solved the case._

**From: John Watson 1:21 PM**

_I know that. But I am at work. You can wait._

**To: John Watson 1:24 PM**

_But I'm initiating intercourse._

**From: John Watson 1:27 PM**

_This isn't exactly romantic._

**To: John Watson 1:29 PM**

_Romantic? I'm not trying to be romantic. If I was trying to be romantic I might go down to your office and try to seduce you there._

**To: John Watson 1:31 PM**

_Actually…_

**From: John Watson 1:40 PM**

_No. I'll be home soon. Take a nap. Eat a sandwich. Do something._

**To: John Watson 1:42 PM**

_I will do both because I will need my energy up for this evening._

**From: John Watson 1:45 PM**

_What's this evening?_

**To: John Watson 1:46 PM**

_Well, John, when two people love each other very much, sometimes they like to make that love into a physical thing in the form of intercourse. That is what I intend to do to you this evening, or this afternoon if you come home quickly._

**From: John Watson 1:48 PM**

_Thanks for toning that message down a bit._

Sherlock not-so-patiently waits for John by attempting to make toast (he burns it) and napping (for five minutes). Finally, _finally, _John walks through the door of 221B and Sherlock attacks.

"Oh, I've missed you, John!"

"You saw me this morning."

"But I didn't really _see _you."

"Not my fault you don't pay attention—"

John's cut off by Sherlock eagerly kissing his lips and pulling him by the belt loops to their room, then pushing John onto the bed.

Sherlock is absolutely no good at seducing John, but you know what? He gets John to bed anyway.

**Couple 3**

In their years together, Sebastian has learned not to be bashful and shy and to initiate when he wants sex. He is a man, a more sexually active man than Jim's ever been, and just because he's with Jim now isn't going to change that. A man that went from one night stands to the military to this isn't going to want to be celibate all of a sudden. But the good thing is that they do keep each other happy.

Sometimes Jim likes to resist Sebastian because it's cruel and he thinks it's funny. Sebastian will try and try and Jim will say no because Sebastian's not trying hard enough. Sebastian will wake up the same time as Jim, wrap his arm around him, then nuzzle his nose against Jim's ear.

"Wake up." Sebastian whispers.

"Mmmm? What?"

"Wake up." Sebastian says again, this time grinding his hips against Jim's side.

"We don't have time."

"We do, please."

"No, I've got to shower." Jim says as he quickly escapes Sebastian's embrace and heads for the shower. Sebastian falls back against his pillow and shuts his eyes again.

Then, Sebastian will try later. It's after they've gotten home from their client meeting. Sebastian helps Jim out of his jacket, then offers to help get him out of the rest of his suit.

"You've got to be kidding." Jim says.

Then, Sebastian will offer to take Jim to dinner. A date, if you will. Jim declines and Sebastian offers to cook.

"Why would you do that?" Jim asks.

"Because I—"

"Oh, right! You want sex." Jim teases.

"So? I'm a man. Men have needs. Humans have needs, actually. All of them."

"Then go find another one that has needs."

Sebastian pouts and goes to the living room. He sits on the couch and watches TV while Jim calls for a take-out order. Later, they eat dinner in silence because Sebastian is angry. He knows what Jim's doing and why he does it.

"You're being mean." Sebastian pouts.

"What, because I won't have sex with you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure half the adults in London wouldn't have sex with you. Are they mean?"

"I don't want to have sex with them, Jim." Sebastian says through gritted teeth.

If James Moriarty had a heart, it'd probably be all warm and 'Aww-shucks-how-cute' right now. Good thing he doesn't, because Jim still resists and tells Sebastian to stop pouting like a baby or go get it elsewhere. Sebastian sits quiet and says nothing more.

After dinner, Jim takes a shower. Sebastian waits patiently for him to get out and as Jim steps out of the steaming bathroom, he's caught by Sebastian. Sebastian pushes him against the wall next to their bed and holds him there.

"How's this for trying?" Sebastian says before kissing Jim. Jim doesn't hold back, he grabs a fistful of Sebastian's hair and lightly pulls him closer.

Sebastian wins this round, because Jim can only resist that man for so long.

_***This one's just short and quick (unlike what our boys are doing now). I wanted to write one tonight and didn't know what to write. This was in my ideas bin for a while. If I get any responses about this then I'll do what happens afterwards. Thank you! **_


	25. Chapter 25

**Couple 1**

In case you didn't pick up on it last chapter, every single thing about Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade is awkward. Seriously. They're both very hesitant men and neither more than the other. They can hold a competition of who is more tentative to _do _anything and they'd be in a never ending draw. But the point is that eventually, _eventually, _they get where they need to be.

The couple is lying in bed after something you _definitely _don't need to know about. Don't get them wrong, it was good, great, amazing, fantast—ok, _Greg, _that'sreally enough adjectives. But it was and that's all you need to know.

So, like I said, they're lying in bed. They're lying side by side, hardly touching, still panting, and both staring at the ceiling. After almost ten minutes of silence, Greg speaks.

"So," is all he says.

"Hmm," Mycroft replies.

"That was—"

"I know."

More silence. Long silence. Greg reaches over to Mycroft and gently runs the top of his hand over Mycroft's chest. Mycroft quickly jumps and says, "I, uh, need to shower."

Greg stays in the bed and thinks to himself how he should be used to this by now. It's been a few years now and it never fails that Mycroft can't just lay there and let Greg touch him in any sort of way. Greg hasn't figured it out yet; he's not sure if it's the touching or the emotions or _what-the-fuck-ever, _and quite frankly, Greg is tired of it. He doesn't want to make Mycroft uncomfortable but he wants some kind of response.

Greg gets up from the bed and goes to the bathroom. He stands in the doorway for a minute, then he walks into the shower and steps in.

"Greg? What are you doing?" Mycroft asks.

Greg doesn't want to say anything. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing and he doesn't want to do the wrong thing, but he silently wraps his arms around Mycroft's waist and pulls him close.

"Greg?"

Greg still doesn't say anything, he just buries his face in Mycroft's neck.

"Are you ok?" Mycroft asks, resting his hands on Greg's shoulders.

"I'm fine."

"Then what are you doing?"

Greg lets Mycroft go, roughly pulls the shower curtain back, and leaves. He grabs a towel on his way out the door and goes back to their bed. He lays face down under the comforter and tries to fall asleep. Mycroft comes in about ten minutes later and gets in be next to him. He lays on his back with his hands under his head and stares at the ceiling.

He finally talks after a few minutes. "Greg?" Greg doesn't reply, so Mycroft asks if he's ok.

"Fine."

"You're obviously not fine."

"What a brilliant observation, Mycroft."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to deduce you? Because I know how much you hate that."

"At least _you _ask permission."

"It's not that difficult. You are angry after sex. You hugged me in the shower. You want to be near me."

"Fantastic, Mycroft, really," Greg sarcastically says.

Mycroft sighs, "You know it's just difficult for me, Greg. I've never been in the position to be _near _someone."

"Yeah," Greg turns over to face Mycroft. "But it's not difficult for me. It's _me, _Mycroft. I'm not some random guy off the street."

"I know, and I should be able to by now…I just can't."

"Why? Why can't you?"

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

Mycroft continues staring at the ceiling while Greg watches him. "I just want something," Greg says, snaking his hand down the bed to hold Mycroft's.

Mycroft takes Greg's hand then looks at Greg. "Nobody's ever cared before," Mycroft says.

"That's a shame. But if someone had, I probably wouldn't care so damn much."

At that, Mycroft rolls over and wraps his arms around Greg. He pulls Greg close and breaths in his ear. "I love you," he says, rubbing his nose against the side of Greg's head and kissing it.

Greg rolls onto his side and takes Mycroft tight. "I love you, too," Greg says.

**Couple 2**

"Brilliant, John!" Sherlock shouts as he comes down from his post-orgasm high. "Really, really fantastic. I don't know what I ever do without it. Promise me not to let me go without it again."

"That's what you said about a month ago and got a case two days later."

"I mean it this time. If I tell you no, hold me down. Force me. Tie me—" Sherlock pauses and his head snaps to look over at John, "Hey, that's an idea…"

"No, Sherlock. I'm not tying you up."

Sherlock pouts and rolls over to lay on his back. "Fantastic. Did I say that?"

"You did."

"I mean it. Every word." Sherlock is silent for a minute, then looks over at John. John is laying face down with his eyes closed and his limbs perfectly still. He has a blissful face and Sherlock wants to eat it all up. He pokes John in the ribs. John smiles.

"Stop it," John says.

"John." Sherlock pokes John again.

"Hmm?"

"Let's go get a case."

"You just came off a case."

"I want another. I don't know what you do to me. You clear my mind, John. I feel as though I can solve the next number of Pi."

"Go for it. Leave me here to rest."

"It's boring without you."

"Boring without me? You completely ignored me for how long during this last case?"

"I feel like a new man, John," he lays back and examines his hands and arms. "I don't know what you do to me."

"You should take a nap, love. I'm sure you're tired. When we wake up we'll go have dinner. My treat."

"It doesn't count as your treat if we go to Angelo's."

"I love Angelo's, ok?"

Sherlock silently examines his arms again, then after a minute or two he kicks and punches at the air above him, shaking his whole body and the bed beneath him.

"Hey, hey!" John scowls, "What are you doing?"

"John! I feel…I feel…I feel…" Sherlock rolls over to face John, "Hold me, John."

"Hold you?"

"Yes, hold me."

"How about you hold me? I can't move."

"You can. Just wrap your arm around me."

"What's all this about?" John smiles.

"I want to be near you. I want to be around you and in you and on you and…I want to absorb you, John." Sherlock nuzzles closer to John, as close as he can.

"You are in me. All the time, you nut. I think my heart beats in the two syllables of your name."

"It's two beats, 'duh-duh…duh-duh…'" Sherlock states, "Of course it does."

"That's not it. It's that when I can feel my heart beating, I hear, 'Sher-lock…Sher-lock…'"

"I think I…yes, yes…I can hear it," Sherlock pushes John to roll over and presses his ear to John's chest.

John chuckles as Sherlock's hair tickles his chest, "You're insane."

Sherlock runs his fingers in lines on John's chest. "John?" he asks.

"Yes?" John lazily lifts a hand to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"Are you going to hold me now?"

John smiles and makes Sherlock roll over onto his other side. John holds him close in a good ol' fashion spoon position. John's hand rests on Sherlock's chest, right over his heart.

"Can you feel my heart, John?"

"Mhm," John sleepily responds.

"Can you hear it? Hear what it says?"

"Hmm?"

Sherlock holds John's hand over his heart. He presses against John as much as he can. "It says, 'John…John…John…'" he says softly before falling asleep in John's arms.

**Couple 3**

When Sebastian finally manages to get Jim into bed, he wants everything to go his way. Which means, of course, he wants Jim to be quiet afterwards. Jim gets up to take a shower and Sebastian takes a short nap. When Jim comes back, he jumps onto the bed and rest his head on the second half of Sebastian's pillow.

"Seb," Jim whispers, "Get up, come on."

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Why?" Sebastian whines.

"Isn't that generally what most people like to do?"

"I'm not most people."

"I've just got so much energy. Let's go kill someone."

"No. I'm tired."

"I'm not!"

"What is wrong with you?"

Jim shakes Sebastian in demonstration of the energy he has.

"Are you high?" Sebastian asks.

"High on _you,"_

"Oh dear god."

Jim leaves the bed for a minute. Sebastian can hear him rummaging around but can't bring himself to open his eyes. Jim comes back and jumps on the bed again. He gets close into Sebastian's face and says, "Seb, you know what I _believe _it's a time for?"

"Oh, please no."

"I _believe _it's a time for a _thing called…_"

"Please, please, sweet lord no." Sebastian picks up Jim's pillow while Jim disappears from the bed and places the pillow over his ears.

The iPod starts with a guitar rip and when the rest of the instruments join, Jim jumps onto the bed and jumps. Sebastian's always afraid the bed's going to break when Jim jumps (and it's often, actually) but it hasn't yet so he continues covering his head with Jim's pillow. Then, Jim starts singing.

"_Can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feeeeeel…" _he jumps around Sebastian, "_My heart's in over-drive and you're behind the steering wheeeeeel…" _Jim rips his pillow from Sebastian's grip, "_Touching youuuuuuu…" _he slams the pillow onto Sebastian's back, "_Touching meeeeee…"_

This entire time, Sebastian's muttering to himself, "No, no, no, please, stop…" He rolls onto his back to reduce the space for Jim's spastic jumping.

Jim continues to jump and sing, "_I believe in a thing called love, just listen to the rhythm of my heart," _he kneels on the bed over Sebastian, one leg on either side of Sebastian's stomach, and presses his forehead to Sebastian's forehead. He then continues, "_There's a chance we can make it now, we'll be rockin' 'til the sun goes down…" _

"Get out of my face," Sebastian whispers.

Jim sits back on Sebastian's stomach and stretches upwards as he bellows, "_I believe in a thing called looooooooove, oooh oooh ooh ooh…" _

While Jim's stretched, Sebastian darts at him and flips him over so he's on his back in the bed and Sebastian's laying over him. Sebastian uses all of his weight to pin Jim to the bed. Jim can't move but he tries to continue singing, until Sebastian squeezes Jim so tight he can't breathe.

"Ok, ok! I give up!" Jim shouts, tapping on Sebastian's back.

Sebastian rears up on his elbows and gazes down at Jim, "Promise?"

"Oh, shut up. You love my show."

"Not really," Sebastian dips his head into Jim's neck and bites roughly, then laps over the bite with his tongue, "If you wanted me back on top of you, you could have just asked." Sebastian sucks a bit of Jim's skin into his mouth.

Jim's hands fly up to Sebastian's hair and tugs lightly, "It is the song that gets you hot, isn't it? You big romantic, I knew you were—"

"Oh, shut up," Sebastian says before kissing Jim.

**_*Soooooo…listen…I'm sorry it's been a few days…uhm…I have no excuses. This chapter might be a bit ooc, buuuuuuut I wanted them to be the way they are in my head. Jim singing _I Believe in a thing Called Love by The Darkness _came to me after watching the bit where he dances during TRB. I had to. I HAD to. _**

_***The floor is now open to reviews and prompts. **_


	26. Chapter 26

**Couple 1**

Mycroft Holmes has never been a hobby kind of guy. When he was younger, he tried to collect things or do things he liked to do, but his little brother had a special talent of messing it all up. He collected stamps for a while, but Sherlock got a hold of his stamp book and colored all over each and every stamp. He collected rocks as long as it took Sherlock to throw one, breaking one of the dining room windows. He liked to climb trees, but one summer Sherlock wanted to, too, and broke his left wrist. The list goes on, but the gist is that Mycroft has never had a real hobby.

"You need a hobby," Greg said one afternoon. It was seven and a half weeks ago.

"Define hobby."

"You know, something you like to do that you do often that doesn't have to do with work."

"I have hobbies."

"Name one."

Mycroft thought for a moment then said, "I go to the library."

"See, I don't think that should count, because sometimes you read up on work related topics. Hobbies are supposed to be relaxing and, you know, _take you away _for a while. You've never had a hobby?"

"No time."

"Everyone's got time for a hobby."

"Not me."

"You've been working on this project for three weeks straight. Once it's over, we're getting a hobby."

Greg Lestrade, unlike his lovely partner, has had many hobbies. When he was young he had an ant farm, then a fish tank. He collected small knickknacks that he found on the street and could fit in his pocket, and he collected coins. His two favorite hobbies, though, were football and fishing. His father took him fishing almost every other weekend, the only times they didn't go was when Greg had a match.

So when Mycroft's project was finally finished, Greg set it his personal mission to find Mycroft a hobby. He started with the basics:

"Do you like sports?"

Mycroft glared.

"Do you like movies?"

Mycroft shrugged.

"Do you like fishing?"

Mycroft looked blank.

"You've never fished?"

Well, Greg took him fishing.

Which is where they are now.

In the middle of a lake.

In the middle of nowhere.

With no cellphone reception.

With beer.

And sandwiches.

And, last but not least, three fish in a bucket at the head of the boat.

Mycroft looks at his watch. "We've been out here for four and a half hours."

"And I've caught three fish. I'd say that's one hell of four hours."

"Can we go?"

"What? Go? It's just beginning!"

Mycroft rubs his face with his hands. They smell like fish. "I've got work to do."

"You haven't got work to do. I called. I made them not need you for the day."

"You _called_? You…you…Greg, you didn't."

"I did and I'll do it again every weekend until you find something to help you relax. That last project did a number on you, I know it did."

"I can't believe you called. You can't just _call_—"

Greg looks up and towards the direction of London, "No fire, no earthquakes, no raging storms. I'd say London's doing fine without you for now."

Mycroft loudly sighs. He checks his watch again; it's noon. He thinks it's a good time for a sandwich, so he gets one out and offers another to Greg. Greg denies.

"Not yet, not hungry." Greg says, completely focused on the water beneath the boat.

Two hours later they've moved fifty feet upstream. Greg's eaten a sandwich and Mycroft tries to enjoy a fifteen minute power nap against his palm. He's still holding his pole, and what wakes him it a light tugging at the line.

"Mycroft, Mycroft, wake up!" Greg shouts, patting Mycroft's chest.

"What? What is it?" he asks, still feeling the tug of his pole. "Oh, oh my!"

"Reel it in, hurry before it gets away!"

It's not a large boat by any means, but Mycroft gets excited and before he can think, he stands. He continues to reel the fish in, but his reeling is spastic and wild, and eventually the boat is tipping left to right.

"Mycroft, stand still!"

"I can't! The fish…it'll…" he trails off because he's distracted by the fish.

"Mycroft!" Greg shouts as Mycroft takes a step forward and sends the boat flipping in the same direction.

The water isn't deep, Mycroft appreciates, but he's still annoyed because they fell in the water. He splashes around and kicks his legs, until Greg finally takes his arm.

"Mycroft, Mycroft!" Greg laughs, "Calm down, it's ok!"

Mycroft calms his kicking and thrashing and manages to swim. "What happened?" he asks Greg.

Greg laughs again, "You flipped the boat over!"

Mycroft gets an annoyed look on his face and glares at Greg, "Why are you laughing?"

"Because that was funny! That's never happened to me before. You got so excited."

"I flipped the boat over."

"But hey, you caught a fish! That's really great! Took me loads of times to finally catch one."

"I'm a grown man, Greg."

"But still. First time and all." Greg swims close to Mycroft and takes him around his waist. He kisses Mycroft's cheek. "It's all right, Mycroft. It was just an accident. It's all fun."

"I'm all wet, it's not that fun."

"I'm having fun. You're not having fun?"

A small smile appears on Mycroft's face and he places his arms on Greg's shoulders. "I guess I am."

"See? Not so bad. Now, come on, we've got to get this boat flipped back over. Oh, man," Greg says, "Lost my beer."

"Oh, Greg, I'm sorry."

"I'm joking, Mycroft. It's not a big deal."

It takes them half an hour to get the boat back over and half an hour for them to both get back into the boat, but once they get back the right way, they get back to land and call it a day. Although Mycroft won't admit it, he ended up having a great day with Greg. They try to fish once every few months after that, and they also try to do other hobbies, including: exercise, cooking, they get into TV shows, and one summer while Greg's daughters are visiting they try out video games.

That counts, right? Because that was Greg's favorite hobby.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock Holmes has had four main hobbies in his life. First, he liked to ruin anything Mycroft liked. Second, he liked to people watch and deduce (that one stuck, obvious). Third, he liked to read and learn (although, is that a hobby?). And fourth, he likes John.

Now, John really shouldn't be counted as Sherlock's hobby. That just sounds mean and borderline obsessive. However, Sherlock's justified it as yes, John highly interests him; yes, he'd like to learn about John; and no, John is not boring.

Sherlock started his John hobby a very long time ago. It started with observations. If he wears this shirt, he's doing that tonight; if he shaves today and he also shaved yesterday, then he's got something important to do today; if he eats strawberry jam on his toast, he won't eat dessert after dinner.

Then, Sherlock made it a goal to learn something new about John once a week. It could be anything he'd learn about John from simple things like his favorite items to, well, _anything. _

And honestly, it should have shocked John the first time Sherlock asked him if he'd rather wear boxers or briefs, but that late in the game (six months into living together) John wondered why Sherlock didn't already know.

Sherlock liked to ask John questions. Since this is Sherlock we're talking about, he didn't have a limit to questions (see above), and John didn't set a limit to what he'd be honest with Sherlock about.

Once, Sherlock asked, "John, how many women have you slept with?"

"Uhm," John thought, "I'm honestly not sure."

"How are you not sure?"

"I didn't really keep count. It didn't seem gentlemanly."

Another time, Sherlock asked, "John, if you could die by fire or drowning, how would you choose?"

John thought, then answered, "Well, if I could choose, I suppose I'd die by fire."

A time after that, Sherlock asked, "John, how much longer would you have been in Afghanistan had you not been shot?"

John, not needing time to think for an answer, quickly said, "Another year and a half."

"So, we wouldn't have met?" Sherlock asked.

"Probably not."

So Sherlock asks questions if he can't figure out the answer anyway. He loves to learn about John. He prides himself as the one person on earth that actually knows John. John always says, "Of course you know me the best, love, we're together every moment of every day. I'm sure I know you the best." That doesn't stop Sherlock from the eagerness to learn, it makes him want to learn more.

And, like I said, John's not boring. Sherlock has never gotten tired of learning about him. Sherlock's constantly shocked by the things John does, even now (two years into their relationship) when John steps up to Sherlock and kisses him quickly before going to the kitchen or sitting down. John is interesting and not boring.

John is so interesting, in fact, that Sherlock will get lost in thought just watching John.

"You're doing it again," John says, snapping Sherlock out of deep thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me."

"I was not staring at you."

"You were."

"Why does it bother you?"

"It's weird. You sit there and mind your own business and let me stare at you. See how you like it."

"I wouldn't mind," Sherlock says, stretching over the sofa.

John lightly chuckles and looks back to his book. A few minutes later, John, without looking up from his book, asks, "Sherlock, if you'd rather lose your teeth or your sense of smell, which would it be?"

Sherlock stares at John in surprise, because like I said, John shocks Sherlock. John looks up from his book and smiles, then returns and waits for an answer. After that, they play a three hour game of would-you-rather before bed.

See? John? Not boring.

**_*Here's a little thing before I go to bed. I had a long day and I'll have Couple 3 up tomorrow. It's a long story as to why I can't just save this for later. Anyway, in one of my _All Their Differences _chapters, John has a hobby too, but I can't remember which chapter it is. Thank you for reading! Reviews are welcome! _**


	27. Chapter 27

**Couple 3**

The day after a big crime, Jim lets Sebastian sleep. Usually. Not always. But today he does. He doesn't wake Sebastian up until 9:30 AM.

"Seb, wake up."

"No."

"Please?" Jim asks, setting his coffee on the bedside table and sitting against the headboard. He fluffs the newspaper in front of him and begins to read. After ten minutes of silence, he asks, "What do you want to do today?"

Sebastian, not lifting his face from his pillow, murmurs, "It's Wednesday."

Jim groans, "It's not, is it?"

"It sure is."

He sighs, "You're a grown man, Seb."

"I just like it, ok? It's comforting."

"Fine. Get out of bed, then, you insane—"

Before Jim can finish his insult, Sebastian darts out of bed and into the bathroom to shower.

Two hours later (Jim was taking his dear sweet time) they're getting out of a cab and walking into London Zoo. Sebastian's loved coming to the zoo ever since he was a kid. It was a nice escape for him because watching sharks, for him, is very relaxing. It's something about the way they move, to him it's like watching ballerinas except less boring (he's not one for ballet). Since he's started seeing Jim, he's tried to go to the zoo every Wednesday.

Jim claims the need for something relaxing has nothing to do with him, but Sebastian knows it does because Sebastian's also grown seventeen gray hairs (not all at once) since he moved in with Jim. Sebastian claims it's worse than having an infant.

His doctor is the one that suggested he find a nice, relaxing hobby to keep him occupied. Sebastian had explained that he had a stressful office job that caused him to travel a lot (a likely excuse…). Him and Jim both took up yoga, but Sebastian's body doesn't move those ways; they took up boxing, which was just kind of random; they got into a baking club, which Sebastian thought would be fun but he made the mistake of leaving the baking supplies out while he was running errands and came back to find the stove on fire (the second stove he bought that flat). They did take up a successful hobby, and that was painting each room in the flat. The only difficulty with that was agreeing on colors.

So now Sebastian's dragging Jim along to London Zoo because Jim won't pick up his feet to walk. Sebastian momentarily wonders why he even brought Jim, but then he remembers that this is "Us-Time". He remembers that Jim makes him people watch, which isn't really any different from what he does on a regular basis, what he gets paid to do, but when they people watch they get dinner and make a whole date out of it.

Jim pays and gives Sebastian his ticket. Sebastian tries to keep his cool but he always gets excited. He hurries through the gate and when Jim stops to talk to the nice security guard, he grabs Jim by the wrist and pulls him along.

"The fish aren't going anywhere, Seb."

"We didn't come here to flirt with security guards named Brock, Jim."

Jim pauses by the Gorilla Kingdom and watches them. "Look, sweetie," Jim says, knowing that his out of character words in public drives Sebastian up the wall, "That one's swinging."

"Come on, _honey_." Sebastian snaps, taking Jim's hand and pulling him along.

Jim makes another stop at the snack cart and buys a soda. "What?" he asks as Jim glares at him, "I'm thirsty."

They _finally _make it to the aquarium and Sebastian rushes to his favorite tank: the sharks. The corner where he usually sits is empty, so he takes his spot against the wall. Jim sits next to him and offers him soda, Sebastian denies and stares at the sharks with a very happy expression on his face.

Jim looks at Sebastian and smiles, then takes his phone out of his pocket and begins playing Angry Birds. "Remind me again why yoga didn't work," he says.

"Too stressful."

"Ahh, yes. And the overgrown fish?"

"_Sharks, _Jim, are very elegant, smart creatures."

"They're so violent, I don't know why you find them so fascinating."

"Do you know sharks have a skeleton made of cartilage? And do you know they bite each other while they mate? Sometimes."

"Are those two over there biting each other? I think they're doin' it, Seb."

Sebastian looks closer at the sharks, "No, I think they're getting ready to fight."

"Violent, that's all I'm saying."

"You're violent and I like you, don't I?" Sebastian asks, finally looking at Jim and giving him a loving smile. Sebastian leans in to kiss Jim, but Jim pulls away.

"Hey, come on," Jim says.

Sebastian scans the room, then gives Jim a quick kiss. Jim smiles and Sebastian looks at the sharks again. "Thanks for coming," Sebastian says, "It's always more fun when you're here. Even though you're…" Sebastian looks over at Jim, "Playing Angry Birds."

"Sharks don't interest me, dear, this is all you."

"Yeah, people don't interest me much but I don't play Angry Birds on your 'Us-Time'."

"We don't general watch people mate either," Jim says, pointing to the sharks that he thought were biting each other.

"Remember that one—"

"Oh, I forgot about them! They were gross," Jim rolls his eyes, "Heterosexuals."

Sebastian laughs and looks back at the sharks, "Oh shut up."

They sit and watch sharks for three hours. Jim takes a small nap against Sebastian's shoulder, and at one point a four-year-old little girl stands and stares at them. Sebastian says hello and asks her name, then the little girl talks to him for twenty minutes while her mom talks to the security guard. Sebastian and the girl (Alexandra) talk about sharks, then other fish, then she points at Jim and asks, "What's he doin'?"

"He is pouting and playing Angry Birds because he wants to go home," Sebastian says.

"Maybe he wants to see giraffes and lions?" she suggests.

Sebastian whispers to her, "He's just being grouchy." Jim elbows him in the ribs. She laughs.

They finally go home and Jim stops pouting, but Sebastian knows that next Wednesday will hold the same fate. They get home and ready for their date that also includes people watching from a high building.

The day ends up being very therapeutic after all.

**_*So sorry for the delay of Couple 3. I hope you guys enjoy this. _anotherscreamingfangirl _said zoo's and sharks. I'm sorry, _ASF, _this isn't all six men at the zoo but I did use mormor and sharks kind of. PS I love it because I have a slight shark obsession. If there's anything you should all know about me from my stories it's that I love Peter Pan and sharks. _**

_***Please love it and tell me so. **_


	28. Chapter 28

_***This and next chapter connected. )**_

**Couple 1**

"You're lucky, though," Greg says to Mycroft.

Mycroft snorts, "Lucky? Tell me how, please."

"You've got a sibling. I grew up alone."

"That's not true, I met your step-brother two weeks ago."

"Alright, but a rightful, completely blood related human that has the same genes as you and—"

"Sherlock's adopted…" Mycroft says like Greg should know.

Greg stops and looks at Sherlock, "Is he?"

"Yes," Mycroft sits on the sofa and continues, "My parents brought him home when I was seven, I realized my mother was never pregnant, I knew all along."

"Geez, I didn't know that. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize, it's not a bad thing."

"Yeah, but going on and on—"

"He's my brother, Greg. It's never changed because he's adopted. He's my baby brother, he's my mother's baby, and furthermore: he drives me up the damn wall!" Mycroft more or less shouts the last part.

"What'd he do?"

"What doesn't he do? I'll tell you what he doesn't do; he doesn't have the common decency of a normal man."

"Last time I said he wasn't normal—"

"We went over this. That was an insult. I grew up with him, I'm allowed to insult him."

Greg sits back and sips his tea, waiting for Mycroft to continue. When he doesn't, Greg asks, "What are some good memories you have of him?"

Mycroft looks taken aback and stares at Greg like he's very confused, "What do you mean?"

"Good memories of your brother. From when you were young, anytime. When my parents got divorced, I had to talk about good memories with both of them to get over how I felt. What are some good memories of you and Sherlock?"

Mycroft lost the confused looks but changed to look annoyed, "Greg, I really don't think this is—"

"Just try it, please. I'd like to hear."

Mycroft takes a swig of his tea and thinks. He's had a ton of memories with Sherlock, sure, but trying to think of a good memory on the spot was more difficult than it seems. But slowly he began to form stories in his head, so he talked and Greg listened.

"After my father left, Sherlock and I grew closer because I had to take care of him."

"How old were you?" Greg asks.

"Let's see," Mycroft thinks, "I was eleven. Sherlock was four. It was…" Mycroft trails off.

"It was what, Mycroft?"

"It was the weekend of his birthday. My father left two days before Sherlock's fifth birthday and never returned."

"I'm sorry, Mycroft."

"Stop apologizing, Greg, it's not your fault," Mycroft sips his tea and continues, "Anyway, after that I took care of Sherlock. We did everything together."

Greg lightly smiles at the thought of the young brothers being attached. Greg secretly loves when the two of them are together, like the sick weekend. "That sounds nice, Mycroft."

"It was. We had fun. We didn't go to school, so I felt it was my responsibility to teach him," Mycroft takes another sip of tea, and when he pulls the cup away from his lips, he's smiling. He chuckles.

"What is it?" Greg asks, smiling.

"One summer, I took Sherlock around the property every day teaching him about plants. I'd quiz him on different things. One day, he was about five-years-old, he went out on his own and brought me back a plant I hadn't showed him," Mycroft pauses to laugh, "It was poison ivy. We both got poisoned."

"That sounds terrible," Greg laughs.

"It was terrible! But it was funny. I was proud of him for finding a new plant but…"

"What else did you two do together?"

"We read a lot. He loved when I would read to him. I taught him how to play chess, when he was seven he finally beat me. He gloated for months until I challenged him to a rematch and won."

Greg laughs. "That sounds like Tom (Greg's step-brother) and I. I'll never forget the day he kicked a football farther than me. He was a little guy, too."

Mycroft laughs with Greg, "Yeah, that's Sherlock and I. He tried to beat me at everything. We grew to be very competitive. Which is good, I think, because it's helped very much with who he is today."

"Yeah, I see it." Greg says.

Mycroft smiles, "He told me he was going to be a pirate. I was disappointed, but I realized children have crazy dreams."

"What did you want to be growing up?"

"I'm not sure, I think I was always hell bent on being Prime Minister. Or King."

Greg laughs very hard at that. "That's you alright."

"What about you, then?"

"I always wanted to be an astronaut. Tom and I built a space ship in our backyard and took it to space each day. We'd hop around the yard pretending we didn't have any gravity. My mum made us space suits and helmets."

"Lucky for you," Mycroft says, "You two are close in age. I was playing with Sherlock until I was headed for university."

"I'm sure you had fun, though."

"We did. He always had me going to tasks. As a child he had the wildest imagination. I'm sure he still does, it helps him to see every possible thing a person does or can do."

"I see that."

Mycroft silently sips his tea. He pulls him from his lips but sits quietly for a few minutes thinking of other things he and Sherlock did as children. "Thank you, Greg," he says.

"For?"

"For this. It helped, thank you."

Greg smiles, "You're welcome. Truth is, I just want to hear stories from your youth. I'm sure you were an adorable child."

Mycroft laughs, "Yes, if adorable is tall and lengthy and awkward with red hair that finally turned dark and a little brother that was attached to me at all times."

"Sounds adorable to me." Greg says, kissing Mycroft's cheek.

Mycroft contently takes Greg in his arms and lets his eyes wander to the single photo of him and Sherlock on the fireplace mantle. It's of him and Sherlock sleeping on the floor when Sherlock was a newborn. It's always been Mycroft's favorite photo. He smiles and closes his eyes, thinking of himself and Sherlock playing together as kids. Sometimes he misses the days when he and Sherlock were close, but when he snuggles close to Greg, he realizes he wouldn't have Greg without his and Sherlock's problems. He faintly smiles and pulls Greg closer, then kisses the top of his head. Anger toward Sherlock diverted, Mycroft falls asleep.

**Couple 2**

After John moves back in with Sherlock and they become a couple, John doesn't purposefully unpack his things in _his _room. He takes advantage of this new arrangement and lets it be known that this is his flat, too, by unpacking his things wherever he wants. Sherlock takes advantage of wanting to learn about John by looking through John's things.

When John gets home, Sherlock is sitting cross-legged on their bed looking through a large box of photos containing almost the entirety of John's youth (Harry's flat flooded a few years ago and in fear of losing things, she sent John the important things). Sherlock has four piles: his favorites, his not-so favorites, a pile of Harry alone, and a pile of John and Harry.

John walks through the door and pauses as he sees Sherlock looking through his things. Sherlock, who is trying to be more considerate of John and his things, looks at John and says, "I'm sorry."

John smiles at Sherlock's attempt. "It's alright, love," he goes to the bed and begins to get on. "What have you got here? Shove over."

"Photos. This box was full of them, so I decided to go through them."

John frowns because Sherlock's attempt to be more considerate is over. The frown doesn't last long though, because Sherlock plants a firm kiss on John's cheek. John looks at him and they both smile at each other. Then Sherlock's attention goes back to the photos.

"What's going on here?" John asks, pointing to each pile.

"Well, these are just Harry. These are you and Harry. These are just you. And these," Sherlock picks up the largest pile, "These are my favorite ones of you."

"Just me? Harry's not your favorite?"

"Harry has never been my favorite," Sherlock glances at John then back to the photos, "Don't look that way, she's not your favorite either."

"You don't have to be so blunt about it."

Sherlock shrugs. John takes the favorites pile and begins to look through them. Every few he chuckles.

"What's funny?" Sherlock asks.

"It's just these photos. I didn't realize they've been saved this whole time."

"Tell me about them."

"Huh?" John looks puzzled.

"Tell me about the photos. What's the story behind this one?" Sherlock picks up one where toddler John is laughing and smiling with something in his hand.

John laughs at the photo, "Let's see, I must have been three-years-old? That sounds right. That, in my hand, I think it's a mud pie. Yeah, it is. I made them for my mother every afternoon. I thought it was a suitable snack."

"You ate dirt?"

"Of course. Every young boy has at one point in his life."

"What about this one?" Sherlock hands John a photo where John is a little bit older and his hands are colorful.

"Ah! This one. One of my person favorites. I discovered paint. I was about five, and I finger painted our entire white fence."

"Were you in trouble?"

"No, my mother had a soft spot for my adorable face."

Sherlock takes the photo from John and examines it, "Your mother and I have this in common."

"So you won't be angry if I tell you I accidently burned your blue robe when I threw it in the dryer?"

Sherlock looks at John quickly, "You did what?" he asks, looking at John's face. John looks sympathetic and sorry, his eyes as large as he could get them and he cutely frowns. Sherlock sighs and his attention goes back to the photos. He picks up another and hands it to John.

"This is my school picture. I think I'm eight or so."

"You look charming." Sherlock says.

"I tried."

"How about here?"

John examines another picture. John's older and taller, and he's shyly looking at the camera. "I was on my way to my first school dance," he says, "I didn't want my mother to take pictures, but she insisted. This is the only one she managed to get without my date."

"What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Your date."

"I can't remember. I think her name was Cindy or something. She really liked me, so I asked her."

"Didn't you like her?"

"I don't think so. No more than a friend."

"I was your friend," Sherlock says while looking at photos.

"Sherlock, I was fifteen. Are you…jealous? Jealous of a girl I knew over twenty years ago?"

"Of course I am. Look at you. Why wasn't I around then?"

"I've seen your teenage pictures. I probably wouldn't have given you a second glance."

"Yeah, and you were straight back then."

"That's not entirely true," John says, "There were a few boys down my path."

"You never told me that." Sherlock says, stunned.

"You never asked."

"I don't ask."

"Yeah, you observe. Never saw that coming, did you?"

Sherlock laughs, "Of course I did. I turned you down that night at Angelo's, I saw what you were after."

"I told you, Sherlock, I wasn't asking you out that night."

"Sure you were. Nobody says, 'Right. Good.' to someone being single if they don't want to change that."

John laughs, "I will never admit that."

"We can agree to disagree, John. Tell me about this one."

John picks up a picture of a baby him crying. "Why's this one in your favorite pile?"

"It's not. I just want to know what's going on here."

"Let's see then. I was about three. I think Harry pushed me."

"Why was it taken?"

"I think it was an accident. See, it's not straight? It's like someone's holding it down at their side."

"Why did Harry push you?"

"I don't know. She was mean. She used to sit on my chest."

"How awful."

"Yeah. But we had fun."

John and Sherlock look at the pictures in silence for a while. After Sherlock's seen them all, he sits back against the headboard and puts an arm around John's waist. John continues looking at the photos, telling Sherlock trivia about each one and enjoying Sherlock's silence. Sherlock nuzzles against John's shoulder and John kisses Sherlock's head.

When they're finished, Sherlock takes his five favorites and puts them in different places. He stands one on the mantle, one on his bedside table, one in his closet, one on his laptop, and one in his coat pocket. Each day when he looks at them he smiles, knowing that the boy in those photos are his John.


	29. Chapter 29

**Couple 3**

Sebastian takes Sienna out for dinner every year on her birthday. He doesn't care who she's dating or who she thinks she has plans with; what matters is that he is her brother and he is the one that takes her to dinner on her birthday.

This is the first year that Jim goes to dinner with them. Jim hadn't wanted to in the past, he felt like he imposed on Sebastian's time with Sienna. But Sebastian persuades him and they pick Sienna up the night of her birthday.

The trio talk and laugh and drink as if they do it every day. It's always like that with them, though, and Sebastian loves it. He loves having the two most important people in his life sitting together at the same table. Well, that is until Sienna decides that she _must _embarrass Sebastian as if it's her last mission on Earth.

"And then," Sienna continues, laughing as she does, "Sebastian kicked the kid's ball into our yard, accidentally kicking it at the house and breaking our parents' bedroom window." She laughs and Jim joins her. Sebastian chuckles but doesn't do anything more. He's chuckling as if he doesn't want to talk about it, as if he is getting embarrassed. "Oh, come on, Seb," Sienna says, shaking his arm, "You can laugh, it was funny!"

He half heartedly smiles and takes a drag of his cigarette. He leans forward to tap the tip on the ashtray. "It was funny until it wasn't," he says.

Sienna's smile half fades and she looks down. "Yeah, but we showed that kid. Remember? Remember what he said to me?"

Sebastian laughs at that, "He told you you had a large forehead."

Jim leans forward and examines Sienna's face, "It is rather large," he says.

Sienna covers her forehead and gasps. "That's enough!" she jokes.

They continue and Sienna thinks of another story, "Hey, Seb, remember that time we climbed those trees and jumped from the largest branches?" she pauses to laugh, "And you broke the branch coming down, and it landed on Uncle Brian's car?"

Sebastian chuckles but doesn't laugh as hard as Sienna's laughing, "Yeah, I remember that."

"And remember that time you shot all those pigeons with your, uh, what's it called? The pellet gun?"

"Yeah, that was sure a good time."

"You prided yourself in shooting a dozen birds in half an hour."

"Started young then?" Jim asks.

Sebastian glances at him and Jim laughs again. Sebastian gets a look on his face that says that it's no longer funny, these memories he's getting.

"Come on, Seb," Sienna says, "I'm just joking."

Sebastian lightly smiles. "It's alright, it's just enough."

"Why? I'm having fun. My birthday, remember?"

Sebastian clears his throat, "It just seems like you remember different parts of our childhood, that's all."

"What? Am I missing something?" Sienna gets offended.

Sebastian gets worked up quickly. "Of course," he snaps, "You were practically a baby when all of those things happened, you don't remember what happened afterwards."

Jim places a hand on Sebastian's. "Seb, calm down."

Sebastian pulls his hand away and quickly stands from the table. He buttons his jacket, puts out his cigarette, and walks away. Sienna sits stunned for a minute, then looks at Jim. Jim stands, leans over Sienna, kisses her forehead, and goes after Sebastian.

Jim catches Sebastian in the restroom. Sebastian's leaning over a sink and breathing deep, his head hanging low almost between his arms. Jim stands back and lets Sebastian calm himself down. Jim does that often: stands and doesn't do anything because he knows this is Sebastian's thing and that if Sebastian needs him, he'll ask. Sebastian's form of asking is looking in Jim's eyes through the mirror reflection. Jim reaches to Sebastian and lightly touches his side.

"Are you alright?" Jim asks.

"Of course I am."

"You didn't need to snap at her like that."

"Of course not. My fault, always my fault."

"Don't, Sebastian. It's never your fault. Nothing…it never was."

"You heard her. Her memories are accurate for the before. It was always my fault. The after, she doesn't remember that."

"That's good though, isn't it? For her to keep those memories out of her head. I wish you could. It wasn't your fault, babe." Jim tries to sound as soft as possible.

"Yes, it was!" Sebastian exclaims as he punches one of the stall doors. It slaps against the stall wall and echoes through the small bathroom. Sebastian holds his fist as it throbs from the punch. Jim takes his hand and holds it.

"Calm down, Sebastian. She didn't mean to."

"I know she didn't." Sebastian whispers.

Jim pulls Sebastian close and hugs him. Sebastian's head rests against Jim's shoulder. Jim nuzzles his nose against Sebastian's cheek. "It's alright," Jim says, "It's ok now. Nobody's…nobody's hurting you anymore."

Sebastian hugs Jim tighter, then pulls away. "Thanks," he says.

Jim gives Sebastian a faint smile and kisses him. They kiss for minutes and after their lips are red and plump, Jim reminds Sebastian that they need to go back to Sienna.

They go back to their table where Sienna is waiting. She looks sad, which makes Sebastian sad. She stands when they get closer and Sebastian instantly takes her in his arms. He hugs her as tight as he can, and whispers, "I'm sorry, Si. So, so sorry."

Sienna strokes the hair on the back of his head, something that for her is very comforting. They break apart and she smiles at him, then they go back to talking about old stories that Sebastian doesn't associate with bad memories. The three laugh for the rest of the night, and Sebastian enjoys the company of the two people he loves most again.

_***I'm really not sure with this one. It started as 'favorite childhood stories' as prompted by **_**ladyhappy, **_**but they kind of ended up as whatever I wanted to happen. But it works, right?**_

_***Please keep the reviews coming! I'm loving some reactions I'm getting and it's making me laugh how you guys love Mormor so much. I'm personally a Johnlock fanatic but you know Mormor freakin' works. Please review.**_

_***Aaaaaaaand thanks **_**ongreenergrasses **_**for reviewing almost every chapter. Did you get bored with reviewing or did you stop reading! (I joke, I joke!) But thank you. And thank you **_**piowpiow, **_**your review made my entire life. **_


	30. Chapter 30

**Couple 1**

Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade have been together almost a year. These men have spent almost every day together in that (almost) twelve months, and while it can be considered a short time compared to some couples, it seems they have learned almost everything about each other. It all comes in handy, really, because one mess up can cause a domino effect of other things. So here's a list of things they've learned. Some differences they have, if you will.

Greg knows that Mycroft will not kiss him before his teeth are brushed.

Mycroft thinks that Greg has no sense of hygiene because he doesn't mind kissing before teeth are brushed.

Mycroft thinks the bedroom is only for sleeping and having sex. Greg knows Mycroft won't allow a television in their room and won't sleep with him anywhere else.

Mycroft thinks it's an, "annoying heterosexual man kink," to want to have sex _anywhere. _And while Mycroft knows Greg isn't annoying or really very heterosexual anymore, he also thinks Greg can keep it in his pants until they get into the bed.

Greg knows Mycroft hates texting and feels special when Mycroft texts him.

Mycroft especially doesn't like texting Greg because he thinks Greg is constantly busy. However, he knows Greg's job can't be _that _entertaining, so he knows a few texts here and there won't hurt.

Greg knows that Mycroft likes coffee, not tea, and is not one for alcohol.

Mycroft knows that Greg likes beer every once in a while, and even though he hates the smell of beer, he will not say anything when Greg smells like it.

Greg knows that Mycroft isn't a sports guy. Never has been, never will be.

Mycroft knows that he loves sports, and Mycroft doesn't mind sending Greg with John if they want to see a match.

Greg knows that Mycroft is a fast reader (thank God!)

Mycroft knows that Greg isn't much of a reader. He had trouble reading as a kid and he's never gotten a taste for it.

Greg knows that Mycroft isn't a kids guy. Some men are built to be fathers, but Mycroft isn't one. However, Greg knows that Mycroft is magnificent with his daughters and he never would have introduced him to them if he didn't think so.

Mycroft knows that Greg loves his daughters more than anything, and that's all fine and good. It's the way it's supposed to be. Greg was definitely made to be a father, unlike Mycroft or any Holmes man for that matter. When Mycroft sees Greg with his daughters, he sees a true caring man that Mycroft feels lucky to be with.

Greg knows that Mycroft's not really into popular culture, mostly in the movie department. However, Greg knows that if he says, "Hey, let's watch—" before he can finish, Mycroft will get out some popcorn, sit on the couch, make room for Greg to sit against him, and contently wait for Greg to put the movie in.

Mycroft knows that Greg loves action movies, and although Mycroft thinks they're highly unlikely and predictable, he'll watch anyway.

For the record, Greg does not think Mycroft needs to be on a diet.

For the record, Mycroft does not think Greg needs to darken his hair.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have been together for what seems like eternity (it's been a two years as an official couple) and while they were flat mates first, it's only natural to assume they know everything there is to know about each other. They can list the things they know about each other and – as a matter of fact, they will list the things they know about each other:

-Sherlock hates things to be salty or have salt in them. He'd rather eat bland food than salty food.

-John, however, would rather take the top off the salt shaker and get his salt that way than let it be sprinkled on like it's being rationed.

-Sherlock hates sleeping. (While John writes this, Sherlock shouts, "John, everyone knows that.")

-John will wake up no later than 8 AM, even if he's ill.

-Speaking of ill, Sherlock has a shit of an immune system (even though he claims he never gets sick).

-John gets vaccinated for diseases that probably don't even exist.

-Sherlock is a pyromaniac. John's actually used to waking up at random hours of Sherlock saying, "John, don't be alarmed, but—" and John just rolls over and goes back to sleep.

-John is an adrenaline junkie, obviously.

-Sherlock gets motion sick, especially on boats.

-John is too proud to get any kind of sick, even allergies.

-If Sherlock has to choose a movie genre, he'd choose comedies because they're the _least _predictable of all the predictable.

-John's favorite genre is sci-fi or fantasy. It's that damn Doctor Who.

-Sherlock _loves _Doctor Who, don't ever let him tell you different.

-(Sherlock whacks John with a pillow).

-Sherlock is not a sociopath.

-(Sherlock whacks John with the back of his hand).

-Sherlock makes a lot of noise—

-(Sherlock whacks John with another pillow. "I was going to say _all the time, _Sherlock. You talk a mile a minute for every minute of the day.")

-John is too quiet. He should talk more.

-Sherlock never lets John get a word in.

-Sherlock's letting John talk right now.

-John doesn't want to talk, the quiet is nice.

-Sherlock doesn't want John to complain anymore.

-John wants to get back to the point of all this. ("Don't look at me like that, Sherlock. Stop it. Stop—fine. FINE. Get back to it.")

-Sherlock makes the perfect scowly face.

-John always makes perfect faces, no matter what face it is.

-Sherlock is sweet.

-John likes when Sherlock sucks up to him.

-Sherlock just knows the right things to say.

-John loves Sherlock's kisses.

-Sherlock loves John.

**Couple 3**

After Sebastian gets released from rehab, he is mandated to go to therapy once a week for seven weeks. Sebastian begs Jim to go with him because he wants support and because it could help their relationship. After much protest, Jim agrees, and in their first session they have to talk about the things they've learned about each other.

"Why don't you start, Sebastian?" Doctor Baca says.

"Sure, uhm," Sebastian thinks, "Jim likes cats."

"Jim?"

"Sebastian's more of an exotic animal kind of guy. He likes sharks and lizards."

Doctor Baca looks at Sebastian for his next fact about Jim. She doesn't say any more, the boys just go on about each other.

"Jim has an abnormally low body temperature."

"Sebastian's face is hotter than the rest of him. He always feels like he has a fever."

"Jim's favorite food is shrimp cocktail."

"Sebastian likes meat. Just any sort of cooked or grilled or baked or fried meat."

"Jim is color blind."

"Sebastian likes the color red."

"Jim won't let me get a red suit."

"Sebastian would look ridiculous in a red suit."

"Jim snores."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do. I sleep next to you, I should know."

Jim laughs. "Alright, alright. Let's see…Sebastian snores, but it's more like a heavy breathing with wheezing at the end. It's devastatingly adorable."

Sebastian smiles. "Jim doesn't sleep much."

"Sebastian won't wake up before the sun is up."

"Jim has a really heightened sense of smell."

"Sebastian has sensitive ears."

"Jim doesn't have any siblings."

"Sebastian has a sister."

"Jim can play the piano."

"Sebastian can't play an instrument," Jim says, but he thinks 'Unless you count gun, which I do,'.

"Jim likes classical music, but he has a few exceptions."

"Sebastian likes to pretend he's twenty years old with the music he listens to."

"Jim likes to read non-fiction books."

"Sebastian likes comic books."

"Jim has nice eyes."

Jim smiles at Sebastian. "Sebastian has wonderful lips."

"Jim dyes his hair," Sebastian laughs.

"Sebastian needs a haircut," Jim says through gritted teeth. The dye could have been kept a secret, thank you very much.

The session continues and ends and the two leave with smiles on their faces because they like to know that they know each other best.

_***Here's a short thing about the things they've learned about each other. I just had a few random facts about the boys that I needed to throw out there. **_

**_*Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. I like that you guys appreciate this so much. I love writing them, too, so that's always good right? And thanks _ongreenergrasses _for not giving up with reviewing each chapter. You hung on like a trooper! (Haha…) _**

_***PS Sebastian didn't kill his parents. He had a really rough childhood, though, and he doesn't like to talk about it much, bless his little heart. **_


	31. Chapter 31

**Couple 1**

It's been three months now that Greg's been trying to get Mycroft to watch his favorite movie with him. Greg feels that it should have been a lot more easy than this because it's just a movie. Greg _has _learned that Mycroft doesn't generally like new things or movies, but he thought it'd be easier than _this. _

But then Mycroft got jealous. Which really doesn't happen often, to be honest, because Mycroft is far above a stupid emotion like jealousy. Usually when he gets an inkling of jealousy, he rids himself of the situation. When he was younger, Mummy would take Sherlock to the yard and let Mycroft have alone time, but Mycroft was secretly jealous the whole time and would distance himself from them. If he was in a relationship where he began to feel jealous, he'd dump the man before he let the jealousy take over. But this is _Greg, _this isn't some random guy that he had a fling with and this isn't anyone he's going to be willing to rid himself of. This is _Greg. _

The reason Mycroft is jealous is stupid anyway, that's what Greg said. Well he didn't say it was _stupid, _he just said that Mycroft shouldn't be jealous because there's nothing to be jealous of. Mycroft went as far as to ask Sherlock how he felt, and Sherlock said, "Why should I care? If John wants to do something I won't do, he shouldn't push me to do it."

SO here we are and I should tell you why Mycroft's jealous in the first place: it's because Greg isn't entirely straight, you know? And John Watson is so damn adorable that wouldn't _you _be jealous if the man of _your _dreams wants to go watch Star Wars with him? And the thing is, Mycroft shouldn't be jealous, really. For many reasons. One, Greg's not going to cheat on Mycroft, especially not with a man that's wrapped around Sherlock Holmes' finger. Two, sure, yeah, John's an attractive man but Greg's kind of realized he's got a height kink. Three, the reason Greg got into watching the movies with John anyway is because of Mycroft. Mycroft couldn't just say, "Sure, pop 'em in, I've got time." And instead said, "John, you like sci-fi, don't you?" So, see? Mycroft.

But, you know, a lot has been learned in these past few years and a lot has been realized (height kink, for example), and so Mycroft has realized he very much is a jealous man. Especially of John Watson and Star Wars.

So finally, _finally, _Mycroft gets in his most comfortable clothes (jeans, if you'd believe it), and sits on the couch with the stack of Star Wars DVD's in front of him. When Greg walks through the door, he sees Mycroft sitting on the couch staring at the DVD's.

"Mycroft?"

"Hello, Greg."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you."

Greg slowly takes his jacket off and hangs it in the side closet. "For?" he hesitantly asks.

"We are going to watch these damn movies, Greg. And if you don't sit down quickly, I'm going to chuck them out because they're ruining me."

Greg sits and smiles. He leans to Mycroft, kisses his cheek, and takes out Star Wars Episode 4: A New Hope.

"Why are you starting there? That's number four."

"Oh, baby, if there's anything you need to know _now _it's that you start on number four."

Mycroft sits back and lets Greg start the movie. He sits quietly, only asks a few questions, makes a few comments. Well, Greg counts far more than a _few, _which irks him. The first indicator that this might be a bad idea is when the screen reads, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…" and Mycroft says, "Oh, _really_?"

But Greg holds on like a trooper because he loves this. His favorite movies with his favorite guy, what's not for Greg to love?

**Couple 2**

Sherlock is a childish man.

That should actually be all we need to say about this because we know that already, right? So when John says, "No seriously, Sherlock. Read the fucking Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy and you will _see _why it's so damn amazing," (John gets sweary when he gets excited), Sherlock tells him he's being the childish man because, while THGTTG is by no means a childish read, John gets to the point of trying to convince Sherlock so hard that he's whining about it and acting generally childish, which makes Sherlock act childish, which makes – you get the picture.

This wasn't the first time John tried to get Sherlock to read his favorite books. John successfully got Sherlock to read The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe, but Sherlock only gave in because John wouldn't shut up about it. Unfortunately, Sherlock deleted it a few days later and John chalked it up as a lost cause. However, it obviously didn't end there because now they're sitting at breakfast while John tries to get Sherlock to pick up the book and read.

"John, it's bad enough I watch Doctor Who—"

"Those DVD's are yours, Sherlock—"

"And I tried that Narnia book—"

"The best books ever, if you ask me."

"Sometimes I think you're twelve-years-old, John, and everything you like is childish."

"Excuse me, Mister I-Don't-Feed-Dress-Bathe-Myself, who is a child? All I'm saying is I recommend you read these books that are so huge in our culture."

"Boring."

"Space is boring?" Sherlock opens his mouth to answer, but John stops him, "Don't answer that."

"I'll just delete in a few days anyway."

"I don't think you would because they're that amazing."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and leaves the table. He goes to their room for a while and three hours later emerges with a proposition.

"Ok, John. You want me to do something that's your favorite thing, you must do something that is my favorite."

"Sounds fair. What is it?"

"Well, I like reading, too."

"Yes?"

"And I like bees."

"Of course."

Sherlock grew a smile on his face and he sat next to John. "I'll read your stupid series if you read the equal amount of books I have on bees."

"On bees?"

"Yes."

"Sounds easy enough."

Oh, John is wrong. It took Sherlock three days to breeze through the series, less time to delete it, and it took John three _weeks _to read four boring books on bees. John likes reading, sure, but these are practically text books. Sherlock doesn't read to be entertained, he reads to learn.

So in the end, John agreed to not tell Sherlock to do something of his favorite thing again, unless Sherlock wants to do it first. John thinks it's fine because they're allowed to have different interests, especially if it's classic sci-fi books to bee text books.

**Couple 3**

Jim and Sebastian have a lot in common, which is fortunate. It'd be really difficult for either to be with the other if there was absolutely nothing to say all the time, but everything is generally easy because they have a lot in common.

Some things they didn't have in common when they first started working and being together. For starters, Jim claims that Sebastian had a horrible sense of fashion and _demanded _he wore suits. Call it a dress code, if you will. Second, Sebastian wasn't one for fancy restaurants. Now, he hardly knows how he coped before. Third, Sebastian's never really been a wealthy guy. His family lived in a small house when he was growing up, and now he lives in this flat that Jim bought when Sebastian was moving in, and now Sebastian hardly thinks he could go back to not having money.

So it might sound like Jim gets Sebastian to change, but that's not entirely the case. Oh, no. Sebastian had his own interests coming in, too, and he tried his hardest to introduce Jim to things. But Jim is stubborn so for a while he resisted. Sebastian would say, "Jim this is my favorite movie _ever _please watch it with me." and Jim wouldn't give in. But finally he did.

So now they're sitting cramped on the couch watching the last James Bond film and Jim is thoroughly impressed. Not that he hasn't been for the last _twenty-two _films, but now he's finally warming up. Sebastian thinks it's because these last ones are modern and more familiar, but Sebastian also thinks that Jim thinks that Daniel Craig is the most attractive Bond.

"I can't believe you've never seen these movies."

"I haven't had much time to occupy myself with movies lately, thanks."

"Jim, the first one came out in 1962."

"I didn't have time then either, did I?"

Sebastian stares at Jim, then continues watching the movie.

The next day, Sebastian's sitting in bed watching TV when Jim comes in wearing a brand new black suit and holding one of Sebastian's guns.

Sebastian glances at him, smiles, then looks back at the TV. "If you make that go off in here again, Jim, I'm locking them up."

"It's not loaded."

"What are you doing with it? Go put it back, I just cleaned it."

Jim takes long strides to the bed and grins over Sebastian. He holds the gun up and poses James Bond style.

"Jim?"

"Moriarty. James Moriarty."

"Oh, God," Sebastian sighs. "Here we go."

"Come on, Seb," Jim says, laying over Sebastian, "Haven't you ever wanted to sleep with James Bond?"

"No, I don't think I ever have. But _you _obviously have," Sebastian takes the gun that Jim's pointing in his face away and pats Jim's back, "I'm not in the mood anyway. I'm tired."

"That's too bad," Jim kisses Sebastian, "I wanted you to be one of my Bond girls."

Sebastian laughs, "That isn't even remotely sexy, Jim."

"Please, call me James."

"What's it going to take for this to stop, hmm, _James_?"

"You know," Jim says, demonstratively rocking his hips.

"All right," Sebastian groans, rubbing his face, "Just let me lay here."

The James Bond act lasts a few days and in those few days Sebastian comes to secretly hate those movies. The final straw was when they were at a restaurant and Jim ordered a martini shaken, not stirred. The waiter didn't even get it, which made everything worse because Jim went on about how he has to, he _has to _watch every single Bond film. Sebastian secretly vows never to introduce Jim to anything new again.

_***Sooooo, here's a short thing about favorites. John is a manboy that loves Chronicles of Narnia ok? AAAAAAND Hitchhiker's because he is Arthur Dent, ya know? If you don't I highly recommend you go read then watch The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy because they are my favorite. Seriously, my life consists of THGTTG, Sherlock, and Star Trek. So many of the same people… **_

**_*ALSO (lots of caps today), I was on Tumblr, right? And I saw someone reblogged something from me. And I was like, that url looks familiar… and guess who it was! It was _buyokitty! _And I was like oh my gosh this kind of freaks me out a little bit because my two worlds are colliding. So, anyway, I was wondering if any of you do follow me on tumblr and if you do you should totally go tell me and praise me over there too. I joke! But seriously. I love reviews. _**

_***Please enjoy this short chapter and don't hate me because it's short. : ) **_


	32. Chapter 32

**Couple 1**

Every household has random items that the residents don't know where they came from, right? Likewise, every household has random items that make complete total sense to the residents and it doesn't even faze them that they own them, right?

It's still pretty early in their relationship (about 10 months) and Greg and Mycroft are just now getting to the sexy point of the relationship where every single little thing is desirable. Greg's washing dishes? Hot. Mycroft's watching TV? Unbelievably mundane and _please can I have you now, please?_

So when one evening Greg dismantls himself and puts the weapons and work related items (badge, keys, etc…) on his dresser, Mycroft stares and glares at the metal that clanks on the wood. And damnit if his mouth doesn't water when he stares at those handcuffs. Yesterday the handcuffs didn't faze him, today they're the most magical thing in the flat.

For weeks, _weeks _I tell you, he shoots daggers of looks at those handcuffs each evening when Greg pulls them off his belt and sets them down. Mycroft's never found himself a kink guy, but it appears (as they'll later find out) that there are a lot of things they don't know about _themselves_ yet, and this happens to be one of those things.

So finally Mycroft gathers the courage and says, "Greg? I have an idea."

And Greg agrees. Because damnit if he doesn't want to find a thousand ways to do Mycroft, he is going to revoke his own man-card. And if he doesn't try to do Mycroft in a thousand ways, well let's just say that thanks to a childhood of Yoda, there is no try in Greg's vocabulary.

It takes them a few more weeks to gather mutual courage to actually do it. And by courage I mean they happen to get drunk and happen to stumble into Greg's flat and happen to tug clothes off as they go and happen to mutually glance at the handcuffs and happen to blurt out a safe word. Because that's what you do, right?

So Greg straddles Mycroft's waist and begins kissing Mycroft's lips, neck, ears while simultaneously pulling the handcuffs off the nightstand. He pulls Mycroft's hands above his head and strings the handcuffs through the center pillar of the headboard, then snaps Mycroft's wrists into place. Mycroft wiggles beneath him which makes Greg giggle.

"Hold still," Greg says, checking the give of the handcuffs. Once fully secured, Greg focuses on Mycroft's face again. He feels dizzy and giggly, but for the most part he wants to enjoy this so he pushes those sensations away.

"Bossy," Mycroft snaps.

"Isn't that the point?" Greg kisses Mycroft hungrily before disappearing from the bed.

"Greg? What are you doing?" Mycroft demands.

Greg returns not a second later with lube. "Forgot my supplies," he says, repositioning himself over Mycroft.

A sudden realization of restraint washes over Mycroft and he can feel himself panic. He's not new to panic attacks and he knows that when he has one his arms hurt. Right now he can't tell if his arms hurt from being held over his head or if he's about to have a meltdown.

"S—" Mycroft begins to hiss out as he tugs lightly on the handcuffs and Greg kisses his neck.

"What?" Greg asks.

"S-S-Sherlock!" Mycroft shouts.

Greg instantly stops and pulls himself off Mycroft, because honestly could any other word get them to stop _that _quickly?

"What is it?" Greg asks.

"I can't, I can't…" Mycroft pulls on the handcuffs, "I thought I could but I can't!"

Greg faintly giggles and watches Mycroft try to pull his hands out of the handcuffs. "Are you ok?"

"No I'm not bloody ok, Greg! Fucking help me!"

Greg scrambles for the key but can't remember where he put them. He stands from the bed, pulling his underwear on, and paces the room. Not in his jeans. Not in the bedside table. Not in the bathroom. Not in his wallet.

"Ok, don't panic," he tells Mycroft.

"Don't panic? Don't PANIC? Gregory, you better find the damn key very quickly or I will kill you! Don't think I won't!"

Greg leans on the bed and presses his face to Mycroft's, "It's ok, I'll find them. I love you." He kisses Mycroft once and leaves the room.

Suddenly very sobered up, Greg wanders his flat and checks in every possible place the key would be. "Shit shit shit," he repeats to himself as he can't find it. He wanders into the hall closet that's full of random things. He rummages around until he finally finds the bolt cutters he needed a few months ago and never returned to the Yard (he's not sorry now). He returns to the bedroom and snaps them demonstratively in front of his face.

Mycroft's eyes grow wide as Greg enters the room. "What the hell is that for?"

"Reckon I'll just cut your arm off."

"That's not funny!"

"Then hold still or else it won't be a joke."

"I don't trust you!"

Greg pauses with a hurt expression on his face. "Why?"

"You're drunk! Would you trust you?"

"I'm not that drunk."

Mycroft huffs and tries his best to relax. "Fine," he says, "Get on with it."

Greg gets on the bed and finds the best angle to cut the metal rings. Once he latches on and is about to clamp down, Mycroft shouts, "Ow!"

"OW?" Greg shouts back, making him nearly drop the cutters on Mycroft's face. "I haven't even cut yet!"

"I know, I'm just nervous."

"You're nervous? I can't even see straight," Greg murmurs as he repositions himself.

Finally, the cuffs are cut and Mycroft gets dressed because now they're faced with actually getting the cuff off his wrist. Luckily, one of Greg's close buddies is a locksmith.

Not so luckily, his buddy will never, ever let them live this down.

**Couple 2**

It's an experiment.

Of course it is.

John knows that any time Sherlock says, "John?" in that voice that says he so badly needs something, Sherlock is either A) Starving to death or B) Needing his assistance for an experiment.

And John usually agrees before Sherlock even tells him what it is. That's one of the perks of having John, for Sherlock. John says yes and never fails him.

But sometimes Sherlock starts the experiment without telling John. Sure, he warns him, but the initial start won't be given because he needs John to be completely normal and usually when John's a test subject he tries his best to steer the experiment in his favor.

So it's a Tuesday morning and last Wednesday Sherlock said, "John?" and now Sherlock is laying next to John trying to be as quiet as possible (which for Sherlock Holmes is really fucking hard, especially if he's simultaneously trying to snap a cuff of a handcuff on John's right wrist). Sometimes Sherlock finds the fact that John's left handed really, really convenient because the fact that he's right handed just made this experiment a whole lot easier.

So Sherlock successfully snaps the cuff in place and waits for John to wake up.

Which is now. Because of course John notices the sudden weight on his arm.

"Sh'lock?" John asks.

Sherlock's momentarily distracted because John is so damn delectable in the morning, he'll have a huge whopping of John for breakfast thank you very much.

"Mmmm?" Sherlock finally manages to breath out.

John brings his left hand to his eyes and tries to bring his right, but he's trapped.

_Ha-ha, _Sherlock thinks. _Success. _

"Sherlock?" John asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

_Annoyed. Angry. Shocked. _Sherlock catalogues John's reaction because he needs every detail of this experiment. Sometimes Sherlock can tip-toe into experiments, but this one was obviously going to be the most sudden. One doesn't just happen to find himself handcuffed to something and go, "Oh, look at that." One finds himself suddenly handcuffed to something and goes, "What the fuck is this?"

"What the fuck is this?" John asks.

"Experiment."

"An experiment that requires me to be handcuffed to…" John lets the end of his question trail off for Sherlock to answer.

Sherlock answers by raising his left hand. The chain of the cuffs clank together and Sherlock lets himself smile. He's actually excited about this: being stuck to his John. John does not look excited.

"Sherlock." John says. It's more a demand and Sherlock doesn't know what he's demanding.

"Yes, John?"

"_What the fuck is this?_" John repeats.

"It's a—"

"Do not say experiment. Tell me _what is going on._"

"We will be handcuffed together for three days to see how we cope."

"Purpose?"

"Conjoined twins in the United States accused of murder. I need to see how possible it'd be."

"Why don't we see how the murder was committed, handcuff ourselves _with consent _then and see how well it works? Stuck together for an hour tops."

"You don't want to be stuck to me?"

"It's not that, don't act that way. But I have a life, Sherlock. I need to pee—"

"I've used a urinal."

"I need to shower—"

"We do that together anyway."

"I need to work—"

"You have the next three days off."

John is silent for a few minutes, then asks, "What about scenes?"

"That's the _point, _John."

John agrees, as if he had a choice. The next three days do not go as horribly or as smoothly as John expects. He and Sherlock argue, which would have happened with the twins; he and Sherlock got in each other's way, which would have happened with the twins; and he and Sherlock questioned one another's morals on certain things, which the twins would have done. Come time to act out the murder exactly as it happened, Sherlock and John couldn't physically or mentally fathom how it would have been done.

So the experiment ends and Sherlock and John get uncuffed. They both feel relieved and act like they need their space, but within an hour of getting uncuffed, they're both a messy heap stuck close together in bed.

**Couple 3**

So we've talked about how Jim and Sebastian don't fight. And we've talking about how Jim doesn't really get angry with Sebastian. And we've talked about how freakin' annoying Jim is to Sebastian. So now we'll talk about how sometimes, just sometimes, Sebastian can drive Jim up the wall.

Sebastian is a man. Obviously. And of course Jim is a man. But these two men are different kinds of men. Jim is the kind of man that likes to shop and yes, ok? Yes he gets his nails done, but it's not often and he doesn't pay for it so it doesn't count. Jim cares a lot about image and being clean cut and honestly, really kind of feminine (not to say all females are _pretty _girly-girls, but if Jim was a girl he'd be a fucking fabulous _pretty _girly-girl).

Sebastian, however, is a man. A _real _man as he claims before and after he takes Jim's manliness wherever he's offering. According to Sebastian, a _real _man (him) never: gets his nails done, spends more time on his hair than shaving, can go a day or two without shaving, can hold his own in a fight, and does general manly things. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty and chatting up beautiful women. Sebastian claims he does all of these things and actively likes to prove it to Jim.

Which is where Jim gets annoyed.

Because he really doesn't need Sebastian to show him how manly he is. He doesn't need Sebastian to order a freakin' steak and a beer while their on a date _just _to keep a bit of his own dignity. He doesn't need Sebastian to purposefully not shave because men have facial hair sometimes. He doesn't need Sebastian to talk to girls at bars to make himself feel like he is a man. He doesn't need Sebastian to treat him like one of the guys because Sebastian sometimes just finds it convenient that he lives with another bloke, sort of like a college roommate or something.

So Jim gets annoyed. He needs to show Sebastian that he can enjoy "feminine" things without revoking his own man-card (even though Jim knows a few slightly "feminine" things (if you know what he means) that Sebastian likes and exactly where he likes it and exactly how hard for exactly how long).

So Jim does the only sensible thing he can think of in order to show Sebastian that "feminine" things are ok, and that's handcuffing Sebastian to their bed as he sleeps. Jim watches him until he wakes up and Sebastian immediately begins shouting.

"Uncuff me, Jim! This isn't fun!"

"It will be fun, trust me."

"Wh-what are you going to do?" Sebastian asks, a hint of fear in his voice.

"You'll see."

Jim disappears for a while and comes back with supplies. He smiles at Sebastian as he takes Sebastian's right hand in his.

"I think your hands are beautiful." Jim states.

"Thanks?" Sebastian questions.

"They'd look so much more beautiful with…maybe…blue tips?"

Sebastian squirms. "Jim?"

Jim's eyes flash and he takes out a nail file and a buffering cube from the supplies. He sets to work on Sebastian's manicure, the first one Sebastian's ever had (and boy is it obvious). Sebastian squirms and yells, he kicks and curses until finally Jim sits on his stomach and continues the manicure. Fifteen minutes later (Jim took his time), Sebastian's finger nails on his right hand are a very bright blue color. He examines them and scowls.

"Funny. Now wash it off."

"No," Jim replies as he pulls more supplies. Now, he applies a light mask of facial cream to Sebastian's face. Sebastian thrashes beneath him, but once the cucumbers are administered on his eyes, Jim threatens that if Sebastian gets one bit of mask on the pillow he'll lick it off. Sebastian stills and Jim sets to work on his left hand.

Another fifteen minutes later, Sebastian's left hand nails match the right and Jim is beginning to clean Sebastian's face. He does it carefully and honestly it's probably the most careful he's ever been with Sebastian. Sebastian stares up at him, Jim looks down. Jim smiles, kisses Sebastian's lips, then pulls tweezers from the supplies.

"What's that?" Sebastian asks.

"Tweezers."

"What for?"

"Close your eyes."

When Sebastian does, Jim plucks a hair from Sebastian's fine eye brows.

"OW!" Sebastian shouts, "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

"Tweezers," Jim repeats. He doesn't let Sebastian recover of protest before his hands are all over Sebastian's eyebrows pulling random strays from his face.

Once that's over, Jim makes his way down Sebastian and pulls one of his feet up. Sebastian's toe nails aren't that bad, but Jim pedicures them anyway.

By now, Sebastian gives up and lets Jim continue whatever he wants. After a pedicure is finished, Jim gives Sebastian a foot rub. After the foot rub, Jim fixes up Sebastian's hair. All while Sebastian is still handcuffed.

In the end, Sebastian understands and accepts that he can do things like pamper himself because it's fun and relaxing. Jim tells him he doesn't need to prove anything because Jim knows how manly he is (killing people is no pedicure).

_***PS: Sherlock stole Lestrade's handcuff key.**_

_***PSS or PPS or what have you: I hope nobody gets offended by my use of "feminine" things and such on Couple 3. I didn't mean for it to be offensive to girls if anybody feels that way.**_

**_*"Handcuffs" was prompted by _ladyhappy _and I needed to see where that would go. I hope you are satisfied! As always, pleeeeeease let me know what you all think. : )_**


	33. Chapter 33

**Couple 1**

Mycroft has come to learn that Greg is a very emotional man. He's very passionate and very meaningful, most of the time Mycroft loves it. What he doesn't love is when Greg is sad. Mycroft's never been good with sad things. When he was younger, after their father left, his mother cried a lot. For the most part he left her alone. She always took Sherlock away and they had alone time and Mycroft distanced himself from his crying mother.

But Greg being sad is entirely different. When Greg is sad (it's not often, but it happens), Mycroft wants to do the exact opposite of when his mother was sad and he wants to be near Greg. He wants to do his best to make Greg feel better.

So when Greg hangs up the phone, walks into the living room, and sits dazed on the couch, Mycroft asks what's wrong.

"My father passed away," Greg says, staring at a fixed point on the wall.

Mycroft scoots down the couch to be hip to hip with Greg, wraps an arm around Greg, and says, "I'm so sorry, Greg."

"It's…fine," Greg says.

Mycroft circles his palm over Greg's back, pulls him in, and Greg folds into Mycroft's chest and silently cries. It breaks Mycroft's heart.

Half an hour later Greg is rushing around trying to gather a mental to-do list for the next few days. He repeats the list out loud as he goes. "Gotta go to over there, I've got to make Maggie (Greg's step-mother) dinner, or something, got to…shit, I've got to get the girls here. But I've got to get over there."

Mycroft places his hands on Greg's shoulder. "Greg, stop," he says, "Calm down, ok? Get over to your father's house and I'll get the girls arranged, ok?"

"A-are you sure? I've got to call Anne, I've got to get them plane tickets, I've—"

"I've got it under control."

Greg leaves and Mycroft calls Anne. He really doesn't like speaking to her and if it were up to him he wouldn't be, but Anne feels bad for Greg so she says she'll get on a plane with the girls tomorrow morning.

Greg gets home later that evening and Mycroft's waiting for him in bed. He helps Greg change into his pajamas and gets Greg into bed.

"Are you alright?" Mycroft asks.

"I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Can I?"

Mycroft wraps an arm around Greg and pulls him close. "Of course. Go ahead."

Greg takes a deep breath and begins, "I'm just shocked, you know? He…he had a stroke. Completely out of the blue. To me, at least. I guess he'd been sick a while and didn't want to tell me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mycroft whispers.

"Tomorrow Anne's bringing the girls, right? Tomorrow I have to plan everything. Maggie doesn't want to touch any details, even though he had everything planned out. Awful, isn't it?" Greg sniffles a bit and continues, "To plan out your funeral."

Mycroft doesn't say anything. He draws lines on Greg's side and lets Greg think and cry and cough because he thinks that's covering up the sounds he's making, but it's not.

"It's crazy," Greg starts again, "I just talked to him yesterday. Yesterday we were making plans to go fishing Saturday, and today I'm…" he trails off with more tears and can't stop them now. He's as silent as he can be and Greg pulls him to lay on his chest. He rubs his fingers through Greg's hair and listens to Greg's cries diminish into snores.

The next morning Greg leaves to plan the funeral. He's sluggish and Mycroft knows he doesn't want to, but he has to. Later, Mycroft picks the girls and Anne up from the airport and takes Anne to her mother's house, then takes the girls to Greg's father's house. Greg is so happy to see them that he cries out of pure excitement. Mycroft smiles and Greg smiles for a minute, but then it's back to grieving. Mycroft is there, though. He hugs Greg when he needs and takes the girls to lunch, then takes them home when they fall asleep on the couch and Greg's too busy with family to leave.

Greg gets home much later to find the two girls asleep in their bed and Mycroft laying on the couch.

"What happened here?" Greg asks.

"They just fell asleep so I left them."

Greg sits next to Mycroft and rubs his eyes.

"Are you ok?" Mycroft asks.

"Yeah. Just tired," he says. He rests his hand on Mycroft's knee and lets Mycroft rest his hand on his. "Thank you for helping so much."

Mycroft squeezes Greg's hand. "I wish you'd let me do more."

"You've done enough." Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They fall asleep on the couch with Greg's head resting on Mycroft's lap. The next day they'll get up and repeat yesterday's events, but for now it's just them and Greg's grief and Mycroft's support.

**Couple 2**

John is a person that is really good at remembering dates. He remembers the date of his first ever kiss (September 3, 1982); the date he lost his virginity (August 5, 1993); the date he got shot (January 8th, 2009); the date he met Sherlock (January 29, 2010). It's no surprise that he also remembers that October 26th is the day his mother died, and this year is the fifteenth anniversary.

John wakes and gets out of bed without waking Sherlock. He doesn't want to get out of bed at all but he does anyway. One of the curses of remembering dates is that his body is on a clock and he automatically feels slow and tired that day. For the three years that Sherlock was gone, he didn't even bother leaving bed on the date Sherlock 'died'; now on that day he doesn't let Sherlock leave bed, either, and he loves him back to death.

So John gets up and gets dressed because it just so happens to be Sunday and he wants to get to the cemetery before many people get there. Sundays are usually days when he's not alone in the cemetery, and today he wants to be alone with his thoughts.

He gets a cab and makes a stop at a flower shop down the way. He gets the prettiest bouquet they have and takes it with him. He gets to the cemetery and wanders for a while before heading to his destination. He's sad and he knows his eyes are watering already, but he finds his mother's grave and sits. He places the flowers on the ground and hopes Harry comes later. He knows Harry doesn't have the same sentiment he does, but he hopes she can at least make it _here today_.

Sherlock wakes up as John exits the flat. He lets John go, knowing that if John didn't wake him he must not be needed, until he remembers the date and knows that John does need him. He gets out of bed and dresses, gets a cab and goes to John.

John sits and talks to his mother. He's not a superstitious or religious man, but he knows that talking to his mother makes him feel better. He starts with work and goes from there. He talks about how Harry's doing and that she's back together with Clara, no surprise there. He tells his mother that his shoulder's been acting up lately but it's nothing to be concerned about.

Finally, he gets around to Sherlock.

"We've been together a while now, and honestly Mum I haven't been happier," John smiles and bashfully covering his face. "He's just…he's perfect for me. He keeps me young by making me run around London and chase after him. Not like that, though, it's just the work. But I would chase him. You should see this man, Mum." John pauses to think, then continues, "Most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"Thanks," Sherlock says from behind him. John jumps and turns to look at Sherlock, first looking shocked and almost angry, then relieved and happy. He pats the ground next to him and Sherlock sits. "Oh, please, don't stop me from letting you praise me. You never have before."

John laughs and motions at Sherlock, "This is him, Mum. This crazy man that I love."

Sherlock smiles and wraps an arm around John's shoulders. "I was going to bring flowers, but—"

"It's alright, Sherlock. I'm just glad you're here."

"Of course I am." Sherlock kisses John's temple and lets John slump under his arm.

John talks for another hour, which turns into him and Sherlock recounting stories of their adventures and their time together. John is pleased but wishes his mother was still alive. He knows she'd love Sherlock, and she'd love even more how happy Sherlock makes her son.

**Couple 3**

Jim has very distinct emotions. Sebastian knows exactly when he's angry, happy, sad, any emotion. However, there is one thing Jim shoes that Sebastian is unsure of. That is grief.

Four days ago, Jim got a call saying his mother passed away. He told Sebastian and Sebastian momentarily prepared for Jim to have a crazy mood swing and suddenly want to shoot things and _maybe _cry, because honestly Sebastian could handle it, but what he doesn't expect is to ask, "Are you ok?" and Jim to say, "Of course."

Sebastian doesn't think Jim really feels this way. He thinks Jim's going to break any second and just flip out on Sebastian, but he doesn't. Jim is acting strange though because he's very calm. Just that: calm.

Sebastian's trying to be softer, too, so he says things like, "_Sweetie,_" which is unusual, "Do you want some tea?"

"No, thanks, Seb," Jim says.

Then, Sebastian tries again and asks, "Do you want me to give you a massage or something?"

Jim says, "You don't have to."

So now it's four days later and Sebastian's going out of his mind because even for Jim this is abnormal. His _mother _passed away, not just some person they arranged to have killed. Sebastian knows Jim wasn't that close to his mother more recently and he doesn't know the last time they spoke, but this is his mother, the only person he had for a long time.

When Sebastian wakes up, Jim's still asleep. Well, Sebastian thinks he is. Jim's laying awake with his eyes closed and breathing heavily so Sebastian thinks he's still asleep. Sebastian rolls over and rests his head between Jim's shoulder blades.

"Hey," Sebastian whispers.

Jim sighs.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course."

"You can talk to me."

"I have nothing to talk about."

"That can't be true, Jim."

"It is true."

"Your mother, Jim—"

"I know."

"Surely you must be—"

"I'm not."

Sebastian sighs. "Do you want me to do anything?"

"Go away, please."

Sebastian hesitates for a minute before leaving the bed. He showers and dresses and heads to the new client meeting without Jim. He figures he'd run some errands while out and finally gets home at one in the afternoon.

"Jim?" he calls through the flat. He gets no reply but finds Jim still in bed now occupying Sebastian's side. "Are you ok?"

"Of course I'm not ok."

"Do you want to talk about it? You've got to talk about it."

"I don't want to."

Sebastian doesn't push him, but he takes his jacket and tie off and gets in bed with Jim. He doesn't touch Jim, but just waits for Jim to need him. Finally, Jim does, and he presses his back against Sebastian's front. They lay there silently for hours, just touching in a simple way. Jim doesn't cry, not that Sebastian really expects him to, but he spends a few days recovering from an emotional toll that Sebastian know he's having. When he's done sulking he's done, he moves on, but Sebastian notes that for the first few holidays and important dates without her, Jim is calm and quiet. But that's just his way of grieving and Sebastian doesn't push him, he only waits to be needed.

**_*I feel very blue so I thought this a good time to take _Brod Panis' _prompt of a loved one dying. I feel very Jim right now and just silent and hopefully nobody gets in my way. _**

_***Anyway, as always thank you so much for reading and I hope you somewhat enjoy this one. **_


	34. Chapter 34

**Couple 1**

Mycroft was an only child when, "Mycroft, you need to share…" was an issue. By the time Sherlock came along, he was already too old to share his things with the baby, therefore didn't need to be told to share because he didn't have to. Sometimes he shared anyway, for example he'd give Sherlock things because he had no use for them any longer. But for the most part, he didn't share.

Greg was taught to share because he got in trouble if he didn't. He was an only child, too, but if his father found out from a teacher that he didn't share, boy was Greg in trouble. Then his mother got re-married and Greg got a step-brother and the two were very close in age so Greg had to share with him. Greg got used to it, though, because he was a good boy and every once in a while him and his brother would get rewarded for playing nice together.

Then Mycroft went away to college and got his own apartment. Then he really didn't have to share. His property was his property and nobody else's. He lived alone and he hadn't until Greg.

And Greg went to college but had a roommate. He and his roommate got along fine because it was a small dorm and they needed to, not that that was really a problem. Greg could get thrown into a room with anyone and get along fine.

Now Mycroft lives with another man. Well, not really. It's early in their relationship and Greg only spends the night every few days, sometimes two nights in a row, but he doesn't live there. Greg has his own flat and his own belongings and Mycroft's are Mycroft's.

However, sometimes the occasion rises where they have to share, and Mycroft is slowly but surely learning that.

Greg spends the night for the second night in a row, and by the third day at Mycroft's he knows it's time for him to go home that night. Of course neither will say it, but they know when it's time. When they get up in the morning, they see it's raining. The raining gets harder as they get ready for work, and by the time Greg needs to go, he needs an umbrella.

"Can I borrow one?"

"Why?"

"It's raining."

"You didn't bring one?"

"Uh, no Mycroft."

"It's not my fault you're not prepared, Greg."

"I didn't realize I needed to bring my own umbrella. It's not exactly like forgetting a toothbrush. You can easily let me use yours and—"

"Are you really going to need one?"

"It's raining!" Greg says, with a slight laugh at the end. "I parked down the street because I couldn't find a spot close. I don't want to get entirely too wet. Why won't you let me borrow an _umbrella_?"

"I just want to be sure I'll get it back."

"I can promise you you will get this one-of-three umbrellas back."

Mycroft eyes Greg and hands him a plain black umbrella. "Alright, but I want it back."

"Alright, alright," Greg says, kissing Mycroft's cheek and leaving.

The next night Mycroft goes to Greg's. Before Mycroft has his coat off, Greg hands him the umbrella.

"Oh? Thank you." Mycroft says.

"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure I gave it back before something horrible happened to it," Greg says in a playful tone.

"Are you mocking me, Greg?"

"Me? Of course not. I just think it's silly that you care that much about an umbrella."

Mycroft sighs, "It's not the umbrella itself, it's that this is _mine_."

Greg puts his glass down and stares at Mycroft. "And you can't let me borrow it?"

"Well, no, I—"

"Mycroft Holmes has sharing issues."

"Fine, maybe I do. But I've never had to. I didn't grow up with a sibling—"

Greg cuts him off, "You have Sherlock."

"I was going to say with a sibling _my age_," Mycroft sounds annoyed.

"Alright, I'm sorry. But this is _me_, Mycroft. I'm not going to go around stealing your umbrellas and not giving them back."

Mycroft mumbles, "Well, that _is _the definition of stealing—"

"You can share with me, and I'll share with you. Deal?"

Later that night, after the deal is made, Mycroft and Greg slip into bed. A while later Mycroft becomes cold and asks Greg for one of his sweatshirts. Greg laughs and says, "How do I know I'll get it back?"

Well, he doesn't get it back, because it's so soft that Mycroft keeps it. so really it is stealing, and it's Mycroft's property now, and he does have a problem with sharing.

**Couple 2**

Let's just save everyone the trouble and say that Sherlock Holmes does not share. He didn't like sharing his Mummy, he didn't like sharing Mycroft, he doesn't share his belongings, and he certainly doesn't share John (not to say John would share him either). But Sherlock doesn't even share the title of his occupation with anyone. _World's Only _Consulting Detective. The sole. The original. The o-n-l-y.

Got that?

He does not share _anything. _

The man's even taken to not sharing John's possessions with John.

"Sherlock, is that my laptop?" John asks over his newspaper.

"Technically."

"Technically?"

"It's yours; you're mine, so transitively it's mine."

"Sherlock, it doesn't work that way. I'm not yo—"

But that was the wrong thing for John to say, because Sherlock slammed the laptop shut, turned his entire body to face John, and glared. "You're not?"

"Hang on, I didn't mean that. What I meant was you don't _own _me like I own that laptop."

"You're useful to me, I take care of you, I enjoy the pleasure you bring me. How is the laptop to you any different from you to me?"

"I'm not a piece of property, Sherlock. You didn't buy me, but I bought my laptop. The laptop stays with me unless I sell it or give it away, but if I want to leave you I can."

"Do you want to leave me?"

"Of course not."

"Then that settles it," Sherlock turns his back to John again and opens the laptop.

"Sherlock, that does not mean you own me. I don't own you."

"You can."

"I can own you?"

"Oh, yes, John. By all means, I'm all yours."

John lets it go because that little tiny, in a way, 'I love you,' just warmed all the cold out of John's heart and he smiles. Sherlock sees him smile in the reflection of the laptop screen and allows himself a faint smile.

So Sherlock doesn't share. Half an hour later John asks for his laptop back and Sherlock says no because he's using it. Then John asks to borrow his magnifying glass to get a splinter out of his finger, Sherlock says no and offers to, instead, get the splinter out himself (using the magnifying glass). Then John asks to borrow Sherlock's favorite mug because all of John's mugs are currently being disinfected, but Sherlock says no and takes one of John's mugs, thoroughly scrubs it himself, and gives it to the owner.

So Sherlock doesn't share. Have you got that? He knows that the last time he shared was when he let John take his card to get the groceries just so he didn't have to go out and get it himself. Of course he trusts John and it is just a piece of plastic, the money it had on it didn't even bother him. John couldn't ran away with all of Sherlock's money and Sherlock's only concern would be the fact that John ran away in the first place.

But finally John gets Sherlock to share. It's not on purpose, it's not by any means on purpose. What's happening is they're on a case that hasn't been difficult at all and Sherlock figured out that the murder weapon is hidden somewhere near Waterloo Bridge on the Thames River. As they searched, the air got colder and colder and as it went Sherlock didn't notice it –of course he didn't. John did, though. John's got an abnormally high body temperature, so if he notices it's cold, it's cold.

"Gettin' awfully cold out here, yeah?" the new guy (Sherlock doesn't know his name) mentions to John.

"Yeah, a bit more chilly than it was yesterday."

Sherlock heard them but it didn't register as it should have to him. For ten minutes he racked his brain feeling like he was forgetting something, then finally his lightbulb went off and he quickly stood.

"What is it? Got something?" Lestrade asks.

Sherlock doesn't answer, instead he steps over to John, takes his own scarf off, wraps it around John's neck, tucks it into John's jacket, and gets back to work. John is so stunned he doesn't even say thank you for a few minutes. And everyone watches. It's probably the most affection they've shown since they became a couple and Anderson's jaw is through the floor. John gets his bearings back, blushes, smirks at the tall fellow that claims he doesn't share, and continues searching as well. All nice and toasty now.

**Couple 3**

Let's just start by saying that Sebastian loves living with another man. It really surprises him now because he didn't think it'd be that great, but of course when he moved in with Jim he was still infatuated with women. However, once Sebastian realized that if you've been with one woman, you've been with them all and that this _man _is so unlike anything he could possibly dream (he realized this around the time he feel in love), he knew living with a man would be great.

Sebastian thought this because he only ever lived with a girl his entire life up until the military. Though he and Sienna have quite an age difference, it didn't matter that she was younger when it came to the fact that Sebastian was her best friend. He painted her nails, he watched girl movies with her, he'd have tea parties, he'd talk about boys with her (and actually all of that makes a lot of sense now…), but the point is that Sebastian's only ever been around Sienna.

Over the years, Sebastian has fully learned that living with a man is great. Sebastian has learned that the best thing about living with another man is that you get to share things. Their flat doesn't need men's shaving crème and women's shaving crème. It doesn't need men's shampoo and women's shampoo. It doesn't need men's underwear and women's underwear (they don't share underwear, ew, but for the sake of the argument).

However, Sebastian has learned that there are a few things that suck about living with the man and the worst part is that you have to share things. No, no, Sebastian has to share things, Jim gets to take his stuff. Sebastian has a shirt Jim likes? His now. Sebastian's shampoo smells better? His now. Sebastian has body heat? Well, not anymore.

Sebastian does not have anything of his own in that flat besides maybe the hair on his head, but of course Jim dictates when he gets haircuts so no not really. And Jim doesn't share. He's James Moriarty, why would he share?

But there is one thing that Sebastian absolutely will not share: his favorite gun. It's not any sort of particular gun, it doesn't hold sentimental value or anything, it's just his favorite gun. It shoots the best, as he claims. And Jim can agree to that, which is why Jim steals it.

"Jim!" Sebastian calls into the living room from the office, "Did you take my gun again?"

"Which gun?" Jim comes into the room while adjusting his tie.

Sebastian pulls the gun from Jim's back and holds it up, "This one."

"Oh, did I?"

"I know you want this one, but I do not share my Precious."

"It's creepy that you named your gun."

"It's creepy that you named your dick, but I didn't say anything then, did I?"

"Hey, you said it wasn't weird."

Sebastian shrugs, tucks his gun into his pants in the back, and leaves the room.

Half an hour later, Sebastian needs that gun and it's not where it should be. Then Jim comes out of nowhere with said gun, shoots the man they're robbing, takes the money, and leaves. Sebastian doesn't help at all.

When they get home, Sebastian is livid.

"I told you not to steal my gun!"

"I didn't steal, I borrowed. And anyway, you weren't using it, so—"

"I was about to when I realized you stole it!"

"What's with you and this gun?"

"It's _mine_."

"We share things, isn't that what couples do?"

"No, that's what I do. I share bloody everything with you, but you don't share with me."

"I do."

"What was the last thing you shared with me?"

"We share your gun."

"_My _gun!" Sebastian shouts at Jim and walks away.

The next day they get up for an early meeting and Sebastian comes out of his closet wearing half of Jim's ties.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Sharing."

"With my ties."

"Only about half."

"Funny. Take them off."

"No, I like these ones better than my own."

"I don't have time to fuck around, Sebastian. Take off the ties so we can go."

"Promise you'll never steal my gun again."

"I'm not promising that."

Sebastian takes his knife from his back pocket and cuts one of Jim's ties in half. It's the pretty blue one he wore the night he met Sebastian.

"You asshole, Sebastian! So I use your gun, you are ruining my property!"

"I thought we shared?"

Jim sighs very loudly and rolls his eyes, "Fine, we don't share everything anymore. Happy? Can we please go now?"

"Yes, I am happy. Thank you."

This doesn't last long. Jim takes Sebastian's gun again a week later, so Sebastian wears another one of Jim's ties. After the while it just works though, so they leave it and now Jim has one more gun to use and Sebastian has 100+ more ties to wear.

_***Hey guys! Thanks for your lovely comments last chapter, I really appreciate any reviews. **_

_***I'm sorry if this one sucks but I'm not feeling my hottest today and just wanted to get one up. I tried my best but it might not be up to par. As always, let me know how it goes.**_

**_*This was prompted by _ladyhappy _and as a matter of fact I think it was prompted twice. Hope you like it! _**

**_*It was brought to my attention that my ages might be all off for characters. _Aviva Tsuion _says Sherlock was 27 at start of series. I thought he was about 32 at the start, but for the sake of my keeping track I made him 35 (like Ben) from the start. Even so my math is probably all off for what I actually make him so don't read too much into his ages. But I appreciate your correction!_**

_**SONG RECS**_

**_*_farfleetingfair _suggested _Fidelity by Regina Spektor _a good song for Sherlock/John and I agree. Also every time I hear _Just My Luck by McFly _I think of them. So keep those two songs in mind. : ) _**


	35. Chapter 35

**What it means to say, 'I love you.'**

For everyone, it is different. It doesn't seem like it is, but it _is_. Three of the same words can mean a lot to people with different hearts.

* * *

><p><strong>Love. <strong>

A noun; an idea that can say one thing and mean a thousand. Trust, friendship, respect, loyalty, desire, lust, admiration, fondness, devotion, want, need...

A verb; to love or have loved. To love can be to give and to make and to want and to need from someone so much and so badly that the verb 'to love' is a physical pain that cannot be diminished unless fulfilled.

To be in love can control you and take everything from you and give it to another person. It is to be complete with that person as if you were born for them and they for you. It's possessive and greedy and so very vital and necessary. To be in love is passionate.

With a different heart comes a different idea of what love is and can be.

* * *

><p>For Greg Lestrade, saying, 'I love you,' is a declaration. It's the most sincere declaration he can make of himself because to love is to give and only give and never take. He could never take, 'I love you,' from anyone, but he has and will willingly give.<p>

When he says these words to his daughters, it means, 'I am here for you as your father, the only man that will ever truly care and respect you because I am a part of you, always.'

When he says these words to his partner, it means, 'I am here for you as your partner because until the day I die, you are my one and only. I admire you, I trust you, I respect you…'

For Mycroft Holmes, saying, 'I love you,' is a fact. Before Greg, he'd never said it to anybody else and he never will again, with Greg he has gained that compassionate piece he'd lacked all along.

When he says, 'I love you,' to his brother or mother (which is never often ever at all), it is a chore. Family doesn't have to say these words to know it's true; blood is thicker than water and they know.

When he says, 'I love you,' to Greg, it means, 'I have never had faith in anybody before you, and I never will in anybody again. I don't need to tell you, but I will until I die because I never want you to forget.'

* * *

><p>For Sherlock Holmes, saying, 'I love you,' has two meanings. First, it is a contract. It has the main point and fine print. When saying it to John Watson, he is saying, 'You gave me a heart and allowed me to love you with it, now you have to stay here for the rest of your life and be mine all mine because I'm never letting you go, even if you try.'<p>

Sherlock always felt like his mother's love was a contract. Since he was adopted, he felt like his mother paid to have to love him and paid to have to care for him. He knows he's a difficult person and he wishes his mother could have known what she signed up for, and wondered if she'd give him back if she only knew.

Second, 'I love you,' is a question. 'I love you,' has always been tentative and hesitant. When saying, 'I love you,' to his mother, he was asking if she loved him, too. If she, this marvelous creature he loves in the form of worship, loves him, too. When saying, 'I love you,' to John Watson, he is asking, 'Could you love me, too? Could this be symmetrical and reciprocated, not just one sided like it was all along?'

For John Watson, saying, 'I love you,' has different connotations. Always, it is a vow. It means, 'I will be here until I die because I am loyal to you and only you, I believe in you and only you, I trust you and only you, I will love you and only you…'

Sometimes saying, 'I love you,' to Sherlock is a proposal. It is when John is asking, 'Will you love me forever?' and Sherlock's answer is, 'Yes, of course, I'm here just let me.'

Often, love is a marriage, 'For better or worse, 'til death do us part…'

* * *

><p>For Sebastian Moran, 'I love you,' is a new. Unlike our other men, Sebastian never had a family to tell him they loved him as they tucked him into bed. His childhood involved abusive parents that <em>didn't <em>love him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself they did.

But now he has Jim, and 'I love you,' is brand new and will never get old. When saying it to Jim, he says, 'I will never get tired of you, because you are the most exciting thing I've ever seen, and I've been to war.'

For James Moriarty, 'I love you,' is a demand. He is passionate in all he does and doesn't hold back because he doesn't have to. He gets what he wants when he wants, and if Sebastian Moran is what he wants then he gets him.

When saying, 'I love you,' to Sebastian, he says, 'You need to love me and you need to need me, but I also need to love you and need to need you, because you are the other half of my fucking soul and I never knew it until you opened me up and I let you in.'

* * *

><p><strong>Love.<strong>

A noun; the idea of saying one thing and meaning a thousand.

A verb; To fulfill and diminishing the pain.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*I'm not sure. I'm not sure where it came from or if it makes sense. But here you go. <strong>_

**_I've got personal song recs for this chapter. First is _Take Me With You by Waking Ashland. _Second is _Love by Matt White. _Third is _All 'Cause of You by The 88. **

_***I hope you all enjoy this one…maybe. Let me know. : ) **_


	36. Chapter 36

**Couple 1**

"Mycroft!" Greg calls Mycroft into their bedroom to help him button his shirt. That's the curse of having no use of your right hand, you can't button your own shirt. Luckily Greg is left handed and everything else is fine, it's just buttoning…not so easy.

"You know this is your brother's fault," Greg says as Mycroft finishes his buttons.

"He was actually trying to _save _you, Greg. It is his fault you fell; not his fault that you were shot at; not his fault that your hand broke your fall."

"Still. He should be the one helping me with…buttons," Greg spits out the last word in a frustrated tone as he tries to fasten his jeans.

"Here, let me."

That's how the past couple of days have been: Greg getting frustrated and Mycroft saying, "Here, let me." Greg doesn't like to feel so helpless, he doesn't like that Mycroft has to take care of him because his stupid broken hand. And then he gets angry and blames Sherlock, even though it really wasn't his fault Greg was being shot at and Sherlock actually did save him.

Mycroft doesn't mind helping Greg because he's hurt; it's just the cursing of Sherlock that gets him angry. However, he knows Greg is just frustrated so he lets it slide.

"It's not going to be broken forever," Mycroft reminds him.

"Yeah, but it might be out of use for a while. Might need to get surgery…"

"It could be worse," Mycroft says, "You could have been shot."

"I would have never forgiven your brother then."

"You'd have been dead and _I _wouldn't have forgiven him," Mycroft tenderly kisses the tips of Greg's fingers that are poking out of his black cast.

Greg gives Mycroft a faint smile and stares down at his hand. _Still no feeling in the tips, that can't be a good sign, _he thinks. But each day he and Mycroft try to provoke the nerve endings in the tips of his fingers and each day they fail. Nonetheless they won't give up until it's done.

"Hey," Greg says with an excited tone, "You wanna write on my cast?"

Mycroft gives Greg a confused look, "Write on it? Write what?"

"Dunno. Whatever you want."

"Greg, we are not children, we don't need to—" he is cut off by Greg pushing a silver Sharpie Marker into his hand. "Alright, if you insist," he says, taking the cap off the marker and motioning to draw on Greg's cast. He stares at the blank cast for a few minutes until he informs Greg, "I'm afraid I'm not very creative."

"Come on, just draw something."

Mycroft starts with a single line from the tip of Greg's middle finger to the end of the cast by his elbow. He sits up and smiles at the line.

"What? Is that it? That's how creative you are?"

"I told you, Greg."

Finally Mycroft's imagination makes an appearance and he draws random lines and squiggles on Greg's cast. He's very pleased with his work and Greg is pleased because he is pleased.

After a while they go to bed, and in post-sex energy, Greg gets an idea. He jumps from the bed and gets a Hi-Liter pen and a black light from the spare forensics kit he has. Mycroft's laying on his stomach so Greg straddles his back and begins to draw on Mycroft's back with the Hi-Liter.

"Greg? What are you doing? That kind of…tickles."

"Does it? You'll have to do me next."

"What are you writing?"

"Nothin'."

Greg shines the black light on Mycroft and the Hi-Liter glows to show a mock Orion's Belt on Mycroft's back.

"Well? What is it?" Mycroft questions.

"The extent of my astrological knowledge."

Mycroft thinks for a minute before asking, "Is it Orion's Belt?"

"How'd you know?"

Mycroft wiggles beneath Greg. "I can feel it."

"My turn then, I want to feel. Draw something and I'll guess what it is."

Greg lays stomach down on the bed and lets Mycroft sit on top of him. Mycroft gets to work on drawing a map of Europe, complete with borderlines and bodies of water. He begins to get to work on the major roads, but Greg stops him.

"Hey, hey! What are you drawing back there?"

"I thought you were supposed to guess."

"I have no idea what it could be! There are so many lines and—" Greg cuts himself off and smiles, "Is it a map?"

"_Very _good, Greg. I'm impressed. What is it a map of?"

"Let me think," Greg pauses for a few minutes, then continues, "Is it Europe?"

"Very, very good, Greg!" Mycroft gets off Greg and lays on his back. "My turn again. I'll keep my eyes closed."

Greg smiles and hovers over Mycroft. He draws a heart over Mycroft's heart, and he writes over the heart. He writes backwards hoping it'll throw Mycroft off, but it doesn't.

"'Property of Gregory Lestrade', really Greg that is sweet of you, but I hardly think I'm—"

Greg captures Mycroft's mouth in a kiss and smiles behind it. When they part, Greg pushes his index finger into Mycroft's chest, "This heart belongs to me."

Mycroft smiles and takes hold of Greg's casted arm. "You big romantic," he says, kissing the tips of Greg's fingers.

"Hey, I kind of felt that!" Greg says before collapsing next to Mycroft and sort of thanking Sherlock because without Sherlock saving him and making him break his arm, him and Mycroft wouldn't be having this fun right now.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock really likes John's attention. Like all the time. If John's not talking to him and talking to, say, Greg or anybody else, Sherlock will do something ridiculous so that John will say, "Ok, time for us to go home now." And Sherlock likes to take as much attention as he can get. Sure, he'll take attention away from others right in that instant and right in that instant it'll work, but it won't last long. So Sherlock finds ways to coax more attention from John.

Sometimes it's not planned. Like tonight when they're chasing after a criminal, Sherlock a few feet ahead of John and right on the criminal's tail. John sees Sherlock fall from far away but he can't do anything because Sherlock is too far away, but then John sees Sherlock get up and start running again so he keeps after Sherlock. Finally John catches up with him, and Sherlock caught up with the criminal, then Greg catches up with them and the man is arrested, yada yada yada…

On the cab ride home, Sherlock realizes that his leg hurts a lot. The only reason he can think of it hurting is that he may have hit it when he fell. He begins tugging on his jeans, but there's nothing he can do in the cab so he leaves it alone.

"Are you ok, Sherlock?" John asks, concerned.

"Hmm? No, perfectly fine."

And then the pain ends because John is kissing him.

When they get home, Sherlock finds it difficult to get out of the cab and into 221B. He makes it into the building but with one glance of the stairs he feels ill.

"Are you ok, Sherlock?" John asks again.

"Oh, fine." Sherlock braces himself for the pain and climbs the stairs one at a time. He doesn't want to tell John how bad his leg hurts because he knows that if he doesn't, later John will say, "I should have known…" and he'll do everything he can to make it up to Sherlock.

Once he's at the top and into their living room he begins to feel like headed, but he pushes it away because John is kissing him again while simultaneously trying to pull his clothes off. Sherlock stands and lets the smaller man strip him, but when John gets his pants down, John gasps and looks up at Sherlock.

"What is it?" Sherlock asks. He glances down at his leg and sees a gash the length of his middle finger on the shin and he is sure he can see his own bone, which is snapped, but he's not sure because the next thing he knows he's opening his eyes in a hospital bed.

"John?" he asks.

"Here, I'm right here," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hand and squeezing.

"What's going on?"

"Well, I learned that you have a very high pain tolerance, and that even though you play with dead body parts for fun, you can't stand the site of your own injured body."

"What do you mean?"

"You broke your shin, took one glance at it, and fainted."

"I didn't." Sherlock demands.

"You did. I had to pull all of your clothes back on and call an ambulance. That would have been embarrassing," John brushes a few curls away from Sherlock's face, "Why didn't you tell me your leg hurt, baby?"

_There it is, _Sherlock thinks. There's John sucking up because he feels bad because Sherlock hurts. There's John being affectionate with his boyfriend because his boyfriend is an idiot and didn't say anything when his leg first started to hurt.

"I didn't feel it," Sherlock lies.

John looks at him sympathetic. "I'm sorry, love."

Sherlock takes John's hand. "It's alright, you didn't know."

"I should have. I'm a doctor and more than that I know you better than you know you."

"You see and you know, but you do not—"

"Are you trying to lecture me, now? I'm trying to console you and apologize because, yes, I should have _observed _you cracking your shin in two, but I didn't, so if you don't mind I'd like to go back to pampering your daft ass." John ends the long sentence with a light kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock smiles at him and tries to sit up more in bed but finds that he can't because his leg is constricted.

"Here, here," John says, "Let me." John pulls more pillows up to put behind Sherlock's back to help him sit up more. He does everything so caring and tenderly, Sherlock soaks it up like it's the only sort of compassion on Earth.

"I love you," Sherlock breathes as John fluffs his last pillow.

"I love you, too, my poor little baby."

Sherlock takes John's face in his hands. "Little baby? John, I'm hardly—" Sherlock cuts himself off by kissing John.

"Stop, stop," John says, "Wouldn't want you to get excited in your hospital gown. These things leave nothing for the imagination."

"Orgasms help with pain, John, and breaking my shin has cause me a lot of pain—"

John's cheeks go red and he halfheartedly tries to pull away from Sherlock, "Sherlock, not at the hospital."

Sherlock laughs lets John go. "Fine, when we get home, then."

However, when they get home Sherlock finds he doesn't want to move much unless it's to reach for his phone or to lift his tea. But John is there to take care of him, that's for sure.

**Couple 3**

Normally, Jim wouldn't give a rat's ass how Sebastian feels. Sebastian's sick? Alright. Sebastian's dislocated his shoulder? Just a regular Tuesday. However, Sebastian gets shot? The world stops.

"Are you alright?" Jim asks, right in Sebastian's face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

"You want to fetch things for me? I should get shot more often."

"It's not a joke, Seb. Shot is shot, and next time shot could be _dead._"

"Relax, I'm only joking. And besides, I didn't get shot. My arm was grazed by a wild bullet. Much different."

"Well, let's not let there be a next time, grazed or shot or whatever," then he mumbles, "And you were shot. Bullet through your skin is not a fucking graze, idiot,"

Sebastian smiles as Jim adjusts the bandages on his arm. "You were scared, weren't you?"

"No, I wasn't."

"You can admit it. I'd be scared if you'd get shot at."

"I have been shot at, you didn't care much then."

"That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I started to love you," Sebastian says as he pulls Jim's face down for a kiss.

A while later, Sebastian gets out of bed and goes to the living room. "So, when's the next client?"

"I've postponed them all a few weeks."

"What? Why?"

"You need to recover."

"Awww," Sebastian mocks, "You're concerned about me. Baby, that's so swe—"

"Besides, I can't have you shooting people with one arm. Your steadiness will be totally off. That's unprofessional."

"And there it is."

"What? I am concerned about you, but this is a business we run, not some half assed _pretend _organized crime. I'm the only consulting criminal for a reason, it's not like we have an office building where there are many and their own snipers on disposal."

"Well when you put it that way…" Sebastian pouts.

"I don't care if you pout. We're not taking clients for a few weeks."

"Fine." Sebastian plops himself onto the couch and is mindful of his shoulder. "Jim? Can you get me some tea?"

Jim does get up and get the tea, and over the next few weeks he does anything Sebastian asks. Sebastian thinks he can get used to this until the doctor told him he's fine to go about his business. Then Jim puts him back to work and soon he wishes he would get shot again just to lessen the workload that piled up in their absence. But ever since the shooting, Jim's been more affectionate and clingy-ish to Sebastian, so he hopes and prays to never be shot again because next time he might not be so lucky.

_***Thank you all for your lovely comments last chapter! I appreciate it, as always. I hope you enjoy this chapter about what happens if one of them gets hurt. It might have been prompted once upon a time but I can't remember. I'm sorry! But obviously I loved it enough to use it. **_


	37. Chapter 37

**Couple 1**

Every couple has to have that first fight, right? That one fight that's just the end of the scale for other fights. _On a scale from 0 to that first fight, how bad is this one? _And I'm not talking little fights over jeans left on the floor or someone being grumpy with the other, I mean screaming, yelling, door slamming, walk out and maybe I'll turn back fights. _That _first fight.

Today just so happens to be Greg and Mycroft's. Greg's not sure what happened between then and now, but then they angry and sure it'd blow over soon, and now they're so angry they're taking all they can not to punch each other in the face. Man/man or not, it's still domestic violence to beat the shit out of your partner.

The fight started in Mycroft's office because the exchange of anger began during the work day, so Greg wastes no time getting this started and goes straight to Mycroft's office. He swings the door open and steps in, then paces because Mycroft's not hanging up the phone for _this_.

Finally he hangs up and looks at Greg. "Well?"

"Well?" Greg repeats.

"Get on with it, then."

"You _know _why I'm mad, Mycroft. I can't believe you—" Greg frustratedly grunts and runs his hands through his hair. "Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish you could be on my side!"

"Have you stopped to think maybe this is a _professional _matter and not a personal—"

"It's personal when you don't choose _me, _Mycroft. I could have just as easily taken this case than fucking _Dimmock _and either way I work better with your brother. And once more, I am your _boyfriend, _your bloody damn boyfriend and I think that gives me a little bit of a—"

Mycroft laughs, "You want special treatment, then? You want me to go back on my decision and fire Dimmock so that you can have this case?"

"When it's a case this big—"

"You're not getting special treatment. Go on a pout, Greg, but I'm not—"

"You give Sherlock special treatment."

Mycroft's voice goes cold and dark and he stares straight at Greg, "If you want me to put you in the same category as Sherlock, go on and tell me right now. I can treat you how I treat him."

Greg almost growls in anger before exiting Mycroft's office, slamming the door as he goes.

Greg goes to his own flat because he knows it's better this way for a while, at least until this blows over. What he doesn't anticipate is Mycroft following him there and when the doorbell rings he jumps. He opens the door to see Mycroft.

"Mycroft."

"Gregory."

"Come in, please."

Apparently the niceties only last while Mycroft's in the hall because once in he almost immediately begins shouting at Greg.

"It was very rude of you, Detective Inspector, to barge into my office and make a fool of me like that. You had no business—"

"Detective Inspector? Is that the game we're playing now? Because, oh boy, if that's how it's going then please allow me to voice my opinions, Holmes."

"You voiced your opinions in my office. You're not getting special treatment, Lestrade, because you don't…you don't deserve it. I'm not going to give you special cases because of what happens in this flat because I keep my private and personal life separate."

"Oh, so you really do just think I'm an incompetent detective inspector? It really is a professional matter and you can't tell me I suck at my job because you keep work separate from home life."

"Now, I didn't say that—"

"You are saying that because you didn't choose me."

Mycroft's voice suddenly lowered and he said calmly to Greg, "I didn't say that, Greg, I said—"

"I don't care anymore, Mycroft," Greg rubs his nose and lowers his gaze away from Mycroft. "I think it's time you leave now."

"Greg, I—"

"Save it, Mycroft."

Mycroft picks up his coat and heads for the door. His voice is angry again as he opens the door, "I didn't choose you because if my brother's going to solve a case anyway, I'd rather it not be you that looks like the fool." He slams the door when he leaves.

They don't talk for a while and Mycroft's sure Greg's not going to come back. Mycroft lets Greg have his time because it was Greg that ended it, it was Greg that comes back. _Ended it, _Mycroft thinks. He wonders what it is that Greg ended.

A week and a half after their fight, Greg shows up at Mycroft's office. This time he waits patiently in the waiting room until Mycroft's secretary says he can go in. When he does, Mycroft's pouring himself and Greg a glass of Scotch. He doesn't turn to look at Greg.

"Lestrade? To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asks, his voice a little bit more or less annoyed, maybe worried.

"I, uh," Greg pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, "I brought you these."

Mycroft turns to looks at Mycroft and gets a surprised look on his face. "Oh?" he asks.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if you're a flowers guy or not, but I'd always get my girlfriends flowers when I upset them." Greg tentatively hands the flowers to Mycroft.

Mycroft even more tentatively takes them. "Thank you, Greg. I appreciate the gesture."

Greg steps closer to Mycroft. "I'm really sorry, Mycroft. I shouldn't have been upset or yelled or come here, I was just upset. You're right, I don't deserve special treatment."

"I accept your apology. Honestly, the part that hurt the worst was when you told me to get out."

Greg takes two steps to be right in front of Mycroft. He touches Mycroft's arm and wants to pull him in, but doesn't. "I'm sorry, Mycroft. I shouldn't have. We should have talked about it or forgotten it because you're right, we shouldn't bring work home with us. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Greg."

"I love you, Mycroft," Greg says.

It's still early in their relationship and saying, 'I love you,' is still a shocking thing, so when Greg says it Mycroft looks up and into his eyes. "I love you too, Greg," he says.

They kiss and it's short and sweet and perfectly loving and equally sorry. They hug and the same is conveyed. They kiss again and after a minute or two, Greg pulls back and says, "I'd better go. Wouldn't want to mix work with pleasure, would we?"

Mycroft smiles and laughs, "Oh, shut up," he says before kissing Greg again.

So their first big fight ends and it's the worst fight they've ever had because it was the first and the scariest because what if Greg never came back? They'd both be left heartbroken. Luckily they aren't and they live happily ever after the end.

**Couple 2**

It's six months into their relationship and a few days into this case. Sherlock is losing and he is getting angrier and angrier each day, and John's getting angrier and angrier that he has to remind Sherlock that the big picture is the missing boy and yes, he is losing but he should focus on finding the boy and not dwell on the fact that he's losing.

On the fifth day Sherlock gets close enough to find the boy but can't pinpoint exactly, _exactly _where he is. This irks him to no end and when John goes home to sleep on it, Sherlock doesn't follow but stays back in the lab to retest the soil samples and go over everything one more time.

In the middle of the night, Lestrade calls John and says they found the boy. He doesn't sound happy and _John _is being called so either Sherlock got shot or Sherlock went and off'd himself because he lost. John gets to the scene and sees a body in a bag being lifted into an ambulance. His stomach drops and he keeps moving but soon he hears Sherlock and he lets out a deep breath. But then his panic is back because there's no young boy anywhere to be found.

"Sherlock?" John asks as he reaches Sherlock and Lestrade. He touches Sherlock's shoulder and Lestrade sort of nods as indicator that it's ok for him to hug Sherlock. John hugs Sherlock, Sherlock tries to pull away but John holds tighter so Sherlock wraps his arms around John, too. "Are you ok, Sherlock?"

"I'm fine, I still don't know why I need this blanket."

Lestrade rolls his eyes, "You were just held at gunpoint. _Again. _This time no handy dandy Army doctor to—" John whips his head to glare at Greg with wide eyes. "Sorry, nevermind. Questioning tomorrow, Sherlock. You know the drill."

Greg walks away and John grabs Sherlock and looks him up and down. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine! Let go of me." Sherlock squirms out of John's grasp.

"Who's in the bag, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looks down and ashamed and angry.

"Who, Sherlock?"

"It's the boy."

"Christ, Sherlock. It's alright. Are you ok?"

"Stop asking if I'm ok, John, I'm fine. I'm not the one that's dead."

"Sherlock don't say it like that, please. And don't be angry, I know you're upset and all but don't be—"

"I'm only angry because I lost, John. I lost, I didn't get the facts on time, I didn't figure it out on time."

"Sherlock, you did all you could—"

"You don't get it, John! I knew, I could have made it, but I had to be sure, and he…he _tricked _me. I didn't make it, John. I could have but I didn't."

John crosses his arms and stares at Sherlock. "How long have you known where he's been, Sherlock."

"That's hardly relevant, John. What matters is that he _beat _me."

"You mean to tell me right now, Sherlock Holmes, that you're upset because he beat you and not because you _let _a young boy die?"

"Is that not—"

"No, it's not." John snaps. He turns to leave and Sherlock follows, dropping his blanket as he walks.

John gets in a cab and leaves before Sherlock can get in. Sherlock gets his own cab and follows John and once he's up in the flat, the words come and the pain starts.

"You could have saved him, Sherlock!"

"Don't you think I know that, John? I didn't solve the case, I know that!"

"It's not that you didn't solve it, Sherlock, it's that you let him die! You could have solved it and he could have lived!"

"For the record, he was shot and killed while I was trying to save him. What were you doing? Sleeping? Here in the flat, alone?"

"Yes, sleeping alone because you were trying and not succeeding, Sherlock."

"I could have solved it."

"But he's dead."

"And he beat me."

"That's not the point, Sherlock."

"Of course it's the point, John! That's the point of all of this, isn't it?"

John gets up in Sherlock's personal space and breathes in his face, "Honestly, Sherlock, I don't know what I ever see in you because you are the worst human I've ever met in my life!"

Sherlock looks down at John with a face of disgust. It's not the worst that's ever been said to him but it is the worst John's said since Sherlock's come back. "Tell me more, please," Sherlock says.

John moves away from Sherlock, and as he grabs his coat and pulls the door open, he shouts, "I'm leaving and I may or may not come back, Sherlock, because I can't handle this anymore I really can't!"

Sherlock stands still until John exits the flat, then he goes to the window to see what direction John goes. _Towards Sarah's, _Sherlock notes. Of course, he should know by now that if John's upset he runs to a woman, he just wishes the woman wasn't _Sarah. _

John actually wanders for a while and cries a little bit because he shouldn't say mean things to Sherlock. The last time he yelled at Sherlock like that, those were the last words he said to Sherlock. _What if it happens again tonight? _John asks himself. _What if he…dies tonight and I…that would be the last thing I said to him. _He turns to go home but before he can walk away, Sarah arrives home and offers John upstairs. John accepts and follows and before he knows it he's too tired to go home, so he sleeps there.

The next day Mycroft calls to ask if maybe John knows what's going on. John tells him what happened and Mycroft says today he was still bitching about losing the case, so John opts to stay at Sarah's one more night to avoid the same fight. The day after that he wakes up feeling horribly empty because he left Sherlock, and he wonders if Sherlock thinks he's gone for good. He gets home as soon as he can to find Sherlock on the floor wearing one of his shirts and just underwear. His heart breaks, Sherlock did miss him.

"Come to collect your things?" Sherlock asks.

"No."

"Oh," Sherlock doesn't move or look at John, then asks, "Where've you been?"

"You know where I've been."

"Sarah's was nice, then? Nice enough to stay two days."

"That's not—" John rubs the bridge of his nose, "That's not why I stayed there, not because it's nice."

"But it was nice."

John realizes 'it's nice' was the wrong choice of words, but he continues, "Sherlock, that's not the point. I didn't come home to tell you if Sarah's is nice or not nice."

Sherlock finally looks up and asks curiously, "Home? Is this still where you live?"

John kneels next to Sherlock's hip. "Sherlock, I came home to tell you that I'm sorry."

Sherlock sits up and looks face to face with John. "Oh?"

John sits on his bum, more comfortably next to Sherlock, still facing Sherlock. He reaches for Sherlock's face and Sherlock winces at his touch. "I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean…I could never…you're not the worst human I've ever met…"

Sherlock's staring at John with wide eyes that tell John he doesn't care. John wants to give up and start crying or something, but he continues, "Sherlock, please don't look at me like that, ok? I'm so sorry for what I said and that I yelled at you." John leans in and wraps his arms around Sherlock, but Sherlock doesn't move. "I could never leave you. I love you so much."

John unwraps himself from Sherlock and takes Sherlock's face in his hands. John begins to cry and Sherlock sees it before John's lips are touching his. Sherlock is shocked and doesn't move, but keeps looking at John while John kisses him. John starts to cry more because he thinks _This is it, this is the end of John + Sherlock. _Sherlock notes John's tears and closes his eyes, wraps his arms around John, opens his mouth, and lets John apologize to him.

Sherlock does his own apologizing by not bring up the case at all, which is enough for John. And after that neither of them bring it up because, really who likes to bring up the first big fight with the one they love? These two definitely don't like to.

_***Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews last chapter. Tomorrow I'll write a Couple 3 First Fight because I'm tired right now but I want to get this up before I forget. You know the drill…review, review, review : ) **_


	38. Chapter 38

**Couple 3**

So these two don't fight, right? We mentioned that. But there was a fight, _a _fight. A real fight that was when Jim said, "Wow, I really shouldn't piss this guy off."

It's not long into their friendship, maybe ten months, and not long into being friends or partners or whatever it is they do in the bedroom. Jim's content but Sebastian drinks to get past his feelings. Of course Jim doesn't say anything, he doesn't care about Sebastian that much.

They're out doing a kill and even though Sebastian doesn't want him there, Jim goes. He stands still and quiet because Sebastian doesn't care that much either at this point and he will shoot Jim.

When it's all over, Jim asks if Sebastian wants to get a bite to eat. Sebastian agrees and leads Jim to a restaurant and bar he really likes. They get a table and order food that Jim isn't thrilled about eating but he'll do it anyway. Sebastian orders a beer, then a gin, then another, and soon he's ordering his tenth or eleventh, Jim lost count when he went to the restroom.

They finish and Sebastian stumbles into a cab. Jim gets in with him and they go to Jim's flat. Sebastian doesn't live there yet and at this point it hasn't even been talked about. Sebastian gets out with him and follows him upstairs all while discussing upcoming clients and past clients and how the past few months have actually been great.

They get in the flat, Sebastian pours himself a drink. Jim isn't paying attention to what it is because now he's focused on what he wants to be doing _to _Sebastian, not so much _with. _He doesn't feel bad, he wants what he wants and he wants to get it.

He pushes Sebastian against the wall making Sebastian spill his drink down the front of his jacket.

"What the fuck, Jim?" Sebastian demands, but Jim starts kissing him and he can't talk anymore. Sebastian drops his glass on the floor, making it shatter into a million tiny glass pieces, then presses his hands into Jim's hips and trying to push him away. "I don't want to, Jim," he whispers.

Jim doesn't hear him and instead continue kissing him despite Sebastian's fingertips now digging into Jim's sides and arms. He pushes Sebastian harder and Sebastian repays by shoving Jim hard. Jim pulls back enough that Sebastian gives him a rough left hook and Jim immediately starts bleeding. He pulls back and grabs his nose.

"What the hell, Sebastian?"

"I said I don't want to, Jim!" Sebastian shouts.

"Geez, Seb, calm down—"

"No, I won't! This is it, Jim, I'm not going to let you push me around anymore. You tell me what to do and what to wear and," Sebastian gestures towards Jim's bedroom, "I don't want to do _anything _anymore! I am a person and I know you don't care but I care about me. So I'm done, Jim!"

"What, are you going to leave? You can't leave, you work for me, remember that."

"Then I quit, alright? I quit!"

"Fine, kiss all of your nice clothes and nice hotels goodbye."

"I don't care, Jim."

Sebastian turns to leave and once he gets to the door, Jim takes long steps across the room and grabs his elbow. "Seb, wait—" he starts, but Sebastian holds up his fist and motions to punch again, so Jim lets go and backs away. Sebastian leaves and slams the door behind him.

The next two months travel slowly for both men. They don't speak and for the most part they're over it, but as anybody that's been in a relationship for a sort of long-ish amount of time, there's still that abnormality like you're missing a limb or something. Sebastian has enough pay checks saved up to help in stay in a regular hotel; he goes about his business and thinks he should be getting a real job soon. Not to say he can do much more than shoot people in an expertise fashion, but he's sure he can find something.

One morning, at the end of the two months, Sebastian goes downstairs of the hotel he's in to check for messages. When there are none, not even from Sienna, he backs away from the counter and looks around the lobby. At the couches in the center of the room, he spots none other than Jim Moriarty reading a newspaper. Sebastian smirks and walks over, taking out a cigarette and putting it between his lips but not lighting it.

"I knew you'd come for me," Sebastian says without looking down at Jim.

Jim doesn't looks up either, but replies, "I'm not here for you, idiot."

Sebastian pauses and looks down, then asks, "You're not?"

Jim chuckles, "Of course not."

"Then—"

"Ahh, there you are," a man's voice says from behind them. Sebastian turns to see an attractive, well dressed man coming from the elevator and approaching them.

"Anthony, darling," Jim sweetly says, kissing his cheek. "You look wonderful."

"Oh, stop," he says. He looks at Sebastian, "Who is your friend?"

"Oh, him? Just an old friend. He used to work for me," Jim says.

Sebastian's face reddens and he takes the man's hand. He suddenly feels very intimidated, this man looks better than he does and is taller and bigger. The man grasps Sebastian's hand roughly.

Jim pulls his hand from Sebastian's and tucks his arm under his own, then pulls his expensive sunglasses over his eyes. "We've got to go, we have a reservation."

"It's eleven in the morning."

"Early lunch," Anthony says. "I've got to get to the office."

Jim turns to leave and Sebastian grabs his elbow. Jim tells Anthony to wait outside and turns to Sebastian.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian asks.

"I'm going on a date."

"With _him_?"

"Are you jealous, Sebastian?"

"Of course not."

"Then let me go," Jim says then illustrates by pulling his arm out of Sebastian's grasp.

"You can't be serious," Sebastian says.

"What, did you think I was going to wait for you?"

"Well, no, but—"

"If you want to have your job back, Sebastian, I'll welcome you back. But what I do with my personal life is my business."

"I don't want to come back."

Jim lifts his sunglasses and looks at Sebastian. "No? Shame," he says, before quickly kissing Sebastian's cheek.

"You better hope your new boyfriend didn't see that."

Jim laughs, "He won't mind. And don't put that tone around 'new'. You were never my boyfriend."

Sebastian huffs and continues, "Anyway, I don't want my job back. This is better for me."

"Is it? Living hotel to hotel and being unemployed? I know how much you had saved up, you won't last long now."

"I'll manage."

"Of course you will."

From the hotel entrance, Anthony pops his head in the door and shouts to Jim, "Hey, hun, I've got a cab. We're going to be late for lunch."

Jim smiles wide and turns back to Sebastian, "_Au revoir_."

Sebastian rolls his eyes and goes back upstairs. He sits on the balcony and watches the city below him, wishing so badly to be behind the scope of his rifle again. He hasn't shot since the night he and Jim fought a few months ago.

As he watches the people below he sees a few couples pass and realizes he so _is _jealous. Maybe not specifically of that guy but that someone else is occupying Jim's time. He liked that Jim relied on him so much and that he was actually very needed.

The next week he calls Jim and Jim agrees to meet him for a drink.

"I knew you'd call," Jim says once they get their drinks.

"No you didn't."

"I did. I know you're running out of money and I know you miss…it."

"Of course I miss it."

Jim laughs, "Yeah, I know you do."

Sebastian sets his drink down and spins quickly to look at Jim, "By 'it' I mean shooting, the work, the jobs."

"Yeah," Jim laughs and glances at Sebastian, "I was talking about jobs, too."

Sebastian nudges Jim's arm and blushes, "Oh, shut up."

Jim looks at Sebastian and glances at his lips. Sebastian looks around the bar, it's pretty empty, so Sebastian lets Jim kiss him.

They go back to Jim's flat and everything continues normally from there. Sebastian begins to work for him again, they agree on a more mutual romantic relationship, and after a few months, Sebastian moves in. Jim learns that _any _sniper is a good sniper and a happy sniper is an amazing sniper. He does his best to keep Sebastian happy and Sebastian appreciates that. All in all, they work well together because it's _them _and they couldn't ever work any better with anyone else.

_***Wow, long fic about MorMor. They can be so sweet sometimes. Hope you all enjoy. **_


	39. Chapter 39

**Couple 1**

We already know that Mycroft doesn't like to cook. He finds cooking something that he can do that he doesn't have to do; like shopping or driving. He's lived his entire life not having to do any of these things for himself; his family has always been wealthy and they've had maids and cooks and nannies. Mycroft can recall his father cooking once: for his mother's birthday breakfast when Sherlock was three and he was ten. He remembers Sherlock trying to crack eggs but he just ended up smashing them in his tiny hand. And his mother only cooked once when he was younger: she made a cake for his birthday once. It was chocolate with chocolate frosting and it was so delicious, and Sherlock asked why she doesn't cook more and she said, "I spend my time doing things with you, and besides I pay people to cook for us, so why bother?" and that was it. Mycroft never cooks and he shouldn't be expected to.

Greg can't cook. Not to say he doesn't try. His mother was a fantastic cook and his father was alright, as well, but he mostly left cooking to Greg's step mother. Greg remembers cooking with one of his parents and always fighting with his step-brother over who gets to taste test or lick spoons. Eventually they'd both taste test and it was always delicious.

Greg unfortunately did not inherit cooking from his parents, but he tries often enough. He loves to cook. He finds recipes fascinating. But he is no good at it.

Right now Mycroft is sitting at the kitchen table watching Greg run around the kitchen trying not to burn anything. Mycroft honestly doesn't know what Greg is doing and at this point he isn't sure Greg knows what he's doing. Mycroft asks every few minutes if he needs help, but Greg becomes more aware of the fact that Mycroft's watching him and makes him leave the kitchen.

Finally dinner is ready and Greg calls Mycroft into the dining room. He has platters and dishes set out with potatoes, vegetables, small side dishes and finally a roast beef. Mycroft looks around the table delighted, it looks and smells fantastic. Greg looks very pleased with himself so Greg kisses his cheek and sits down.

Greg serves him and then serves himself, then Greg refills their wine glasses and finally sits down to watch Mycroft take a bite.

Then Mycroft does.

Then Mycroft makes a face.

Then Mycroft tries to hide his face with a smile.

It doesn't work.

"What is it?" Greg demands. "Too much salt, too little? I could…I could add some? Oh, hell I don't know Mycroft."

"It's, uhm," Mycroft can't find the words to tell Greg how bad it actually is. Mycroft wants to lie and say it's all fine because he loves Greg and he wants Greg to be pleased, but then Mycroft doesn't have to lie because Greg takes a bite and makes a face.

"This is shit," Greg says.

"Maybe…you got a bad bite?"

Greg groans and stands from the table, throwing his napkin on his chair, "You don't have to lie, Mycroft. I know it's bad."

Mycroft stands and hugs Greg. "It's fine, really. I do appreciate the effort."

"You do?"

"Of course! Nobody's ever cooked for me before," he kisses Greg's cheek and sits down again. "Let's see what we can do, shall we? I think you're right, needs a bit more salt." Mycroft adds salt to his meat and takes another bite. He makes another face.

"What is it?"

"Did you…burn it?"

Greg groans and buries his face in his hands.

"Darling, sweetie," Mycroft tries to console him, "It's fine."

"Stop saying it's fine, it's not fine."

"It is fine. Like I said, it was a sweet gesture. How about we order something, mmm? Anything you feel like?"

"Roast. Mashed potatoes. Corn."

"Let's see what we can find, ok?"

They order food and while Greg is paying the deliverer, Mycroft finds ingredients to bake a cake. He's sure he can handle it, it shouldn't be that hard. He finds a recipe and sets to work quickly. When Greg comes into the room with food in hand, he asks Mycroft what he's doing.

"I am making you a cake. It's the least I can do, you wouldn't let me help with dinner."

"Yeah, I meant it that way. It was for our anniversary, that was the point, and I rui—"

"Hey, hey," Mycroft takes Greg's chin in his hand, "It's your anniversary, too."

Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft then lets Mycroft work.

A while later, Mycroft is frosting their cake and it looks magnificent. Greg's not sure he's seen a better looking cake except maybe at his own wedding, but of course he doesn't say that. Instead he gushes over how fantastic it does look and how chocolatey is smells and how excited he is to eat. Mycroft doesn't waste any time, he gets Greg a plate and cuts him a piece. He watches Greg take a bite. Then he watches Greg make a face.

"What? What is it?"

"I thought you said you can cook," Greg says, mouth full until he spits it back onto his plate.

"I can!" Mycroft defends, then takes a bite. He too spits out his mouthful and says, "Apparently I can't bake."

The two laugh and chalk it all up for a lost cause. Their dinner date turned disastrous and they end up eating take away for their anniversary. But later they'll realize that the chocolate frosting is great for other things.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock doesn't cook, either. And there is a reason for that. It is because he knows as well as his brother and mother that if someone can do it for him, he shouldn't have to. He lets John do it because John's good at it and John likes to take care of him in this way. Sherlock doesn't protest when John says he's cooking, that is unless what John is making looks gross or Sherlock has a craving for something else.

But it is John's birthday and Sherlock figures he'll give it a try. A lot of firsts are happening and Sherlock also goes shopping. Well, he and Mrs. Hudson go shopping, but Sherlock's never gone without John and whether Mrs. Hudson is there or not is irrelevant, he just needs her help on specific details (the man deleted the solar system from his hard drive, of course he deleted the ingredients to homemade spaghetti).

They shop and he finally gets home to cook. He made a batch of spaghetti and called Mrs. Hudson to taste test, but she said he used too much seasoning on the sauce. Luckily, they bought extra ingredients so he makes another batch. The second batch didn't have noodles cooked all the way, so Sherlock sets on a third batch. Just in time for John to get off work, Mrs. Hudson tells Sherlock that his spaghetti is great and that he needs to put dessert (fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, she said he needed to star small) in the oven. He does and then he gets changed and finally John arrives home.

"What's this?" John asks as he looks over the (cleaned!) kitchen table to see two plates of spaghetti, two wine glasses, and a candle (it's more romantic, wink wink).

"Happy Birthday, John," Sherlock says, helping John out of his coat and kissing him hello.

"Oh? Thanks, Sherlock, you shouldn't have."

"I know," Sherlock says to himself.

They sit down to eat and John begins right away because he's hungry after a full shift. They eat and talk, well John eats and Sherlock watches and listens, he actually listens to what John is saying. John enjoys this very much and Sherlock keeps doing it because he sees John's enjoying it. Finally John tells Sherlock he'd better eat or else he's going to get a handful of pasta to that pretty suit, so Sherlock begins to eat then begins to enjoy it.

Not long later, John stops eating and sniffs the air.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Is something…burning?"

Sherlock jumps out of his chair and shouts, "Oh, fuck!"

Sherlock throws the oven door open and lets the trapped smoke out. The fire alarm goes off not seconds later and not seconds after that Mrs. Hudson is heard emerging from her flat and heading upstairs.

"Sherlock! What have you done?" Mrs. Hudson shouts from the landing outside of their flat.

Sherlock reaches into the oven to try to pull the blackened cookies out but burns his hand in doing so.

"Fuck!" he shouts again, bringing his fingertips to his lips and sucking.

Mrs. Hudson begins swatting the smoke in the air with the hand towel she was holding and makes small unappreciative noises at Sherlock.

John finally makes an appearance and turns the oven off, then gets on a chair to turn the smoke detector off, then takes Mrs. Hudson's hand towel, running it under cold water, and holding it to Sherlock's fingers. All while laughing the whole time.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson," John says between chuckles.

She goes back downstairs and John turns his attention to Sherlock who is sucking on his fingers again. "Here, the cold will help. Are you ok?" John asks.

"Fine."

"Did you bake me cookies?" John asks, trying to cutely get in Sherlock's face but Sherlock is scowling at his hand and has positioned his face as low to his chest as it can get.

"_Tried. _I obviously failed."

John ducks more to look into Sherlock's eyes and takes Sherlock's chin in his hands to pull his face up. "Thank you, Sherlock. I mean it, thank you."

"You're not angry?"

"Angry? Of course not!"

Sherlock looks at John through his eye lashes. He meets John's eyes for a second before diverting them down at his hand again. John takes hold of his hand and kisses his burned finger tips, then kisses Sherlock's lips a few times. Then he pulls Sherlock's hand and leads Sherlock to their bathroom. "Come on, I've got bandages."

They go out for dessert, but not before they take Sherlock to the hospital because he burned the shit out of his hand.

**Couple 3**

Romantic. Sappy. Fluffy, if you will. These two aren't. They never really have been. They're good at being themselves, they're good at being loving (if they want to be) but they're not very good at the whole romance thing, the whole _trying _to have a good date or a nice romantic evening in.

Since they began going to therapy because of Sebastian's alcoholism, they've been trying to do out of the ordinary things. One thing Sebastian has found that would be out of the ordinary is romance. They go on dates, sure. But Sebastian finds that the most romantic thing to do for somebody else is to cook for them, make them a nice meal.

Jim goes out to meet a client and run errands, tells Sebastian he won't be back until later, so Sebastian sets out to make a meal. He's fairly good at cooking, he has a few good dishes, he doesn't think it should be that difficult.

Well, it's not. He easily makes a fantastic batch of lasagna (the best dish he can make) and by the time Jim gets home it's ready.

"What are you doing?" Jim asks.

"I made us dinner."

"Why?"

"Because I…I had some time on my hands, thought it'd be nice."

"Why?" Jim asks again.

"Because I wanted to do something nice for you, Jim!" Sebastian shouts.

Jim's eyes grow wide and he shrugs his coat off and hangs it on the hook. He joins Sebastian at the kitchen table and Sebastian serves him a plate of lasagna.

Then they eat. And it's rather good considering Sebastian doesn't often cook. It's quiet, they don't talk much besides Jim every once in a while commenting on how good the food is and once how good Sebastian's new haircut is.

After almost twenty minutes of silence, Sebastian throws his fork onto his plate and shouts, "This is crap, isn't it?"

Jim's so startled he almost falls out of his seat. He regains balance and stares at Sebastian, "What are you talking about?"

"_This. _I try to do something nice and romantic but it turns into us being the two most boring people ever!"

"Oh thank god!" Jim says, "I am dying over here, I didn't know how awful it could be once you stopped drinking and now we're eating in? We don't eat in! We go out, that's the point of having someone good looking attached to you, all the girls, even the boys, stare at you and _that is the point!_"

Sebastian begins to laugh. He laughs so much that he can't stop. Jim looks questioningly at him. "Nothing, nothing," Sebastian says, patting his arm, "It's just that I am bored, too! And then you said," he pauses to laugh, "You like taking me out on the town, don't you? You like showing me off. You like to show that you've got me and nobody else can."

"Yes, that's the point!"

"Well, I mean not the whole point, I hope?"

Jim ignores him and stands to get his coat. "Come on," he says, holding his hand out for Sebastian, "I need to get out of here."

They go to a café for dessert. It's nothing special but there are a few people there that stare at Sebastian and it forces Jim to pull Sebastian close and kiss him a few times.

It all turns out fine and they decide not to cook at home anymore because if they want a nice meal they can go out and get one, they don't have to have an awful, boring date at home.

**_*So _umqraisntmorsecode _suggested I write a date going horribly wrong so I decided to do where one man is trying to be nice to his boyfriend by cooking a wonderful meal and something goes terribly wrong. I hope you all enjoy, review as always. And thank you for last chapter's reviews. : ) _**


	40. Chapter 40

**Couple 1**

So they fight a rightful amount of time, ok? It's not often, it's a fairly normal amount. Fights never last long either, it usually lasts long enough for one to say sorry and move on and one always says sorry because they are grown men, and yeah sometimes grown men have trouble admitting they're wrong. But these two grown men are in a relationship with another grown man, so one of them has to be the more mature and say, "Alright, fighting's over. I'm sorry."

Sometimes one man will do something wrong that he just knows will make the other man angry, thus causing a fight to break out. Usually it's Greg that does something wrong that he knows will make Mycroft angry, so Greg will try his best to avoid a fight. Sometimes he'll just avoid the topic altogether, but Mycroft is quick, of course.

This is how Mycroft learned to not trust Greg with laundry. Greg's laundry isn't as expensive or wash-demanding as Mycroft's, so Greg throws his stuff in a washer and drier and he's good to go, but Mycroft gets his stuff dry-cleaned. But once, just once, Greg convinced Mycroft to let him save them money and just do his own laundry.

So Greg loads the washer and lets it run, then he pulls Mycroft's clothes out when he realizes he missed a white shirt in a wash of dark shirts. Greg's stomach drops as he realizes Mycroft's white shirt is now a weird faded blue color with patches of red.

"Oh, no…" Greg whispers as he hears Mycroft come into the house. Greg drops the shirt back into the washer, starts the drier, and goes into the living room. He catches Mycroft as Mycroft is walking into the kitchen towards the laundry room. "Hey, Mycroft, how was work?"

"It was fine," Mycroft suspiciously eyes Greg, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, why do you ask?"

"You're acting strange."

"I'm not acting strange."

"Then why did you purposefully divert me away from the laundry?"

"I didn't, I was just greeting you."

"Alright," Mycroft moves to the fridge and looks around it. "Nothing in, how do you fancy going out for dinner?"

He barely has the question out before saying, "Yes, perfect, anywhere," then quietly says, "Away from the laundry."

"Did you say something?"

"Just saying anywhere you'd like."

Mycroft eyes him again, "Alright. You choose."

He chooses and they go to dinner. All dinner, Mycroft feels as though Greg is acting weird; maybe guilty about something. What really gets him is when Greg compliments him every second.

"You look fantastic, Mycroft." Then, "You smell wonderful, Mycroft." Then saying how interesting everything is that Mycroft is saying.

Finally Mycroft puts his fork down and asks what's going on. Greg thinks he can't really make a scene at a restaurant so he tells Mycroft that he ruined one of his shirts on accident.

"You did what?" Mycroft exclaims.

"I'm sorry, ok? It was just a shirt, and it was an accident! I'm sorry!"

"This is why I told you not to do my laundry! This is why, Greg!"

"I just wanted to save us some money, is that so bad!"

"When it's _my _money I'm spending to wash my clothes and _my _shirts that _you _ruin—"

"It was one shirt!"

"This is why, Greg. I told you."

"I'm sorry, Mycroft. I didn't mean to."

Mycroft sighs and rubs his eyes. "You could have just told me."

"I didn't want you to be angry with me."

"Is this why you've been complimenting and acting interested?"

"Of course not! Well, kind of. But I meant everything I said." Greg gives Mycroft a faint smile.

Mycroft sighs again. "Fine, you are forgiven. But you're never doing my laundry again."

"Fine. And thank you for forgiving me."

The next week the same thing happens because one of Mycroft's shirts gets mixed in with Greg's and Mycroft's shirt gets ruined. This time Greg reminds Mycroft how much he loves him about ten times while kissing him and also telling him how much he missed him during the day. Finally Mycroft asks Greg if he ruined another shirt and Greg quickly tells the truth. Mycroft scowls but after a while he gets over it. And more precautions are taken in ensuring the safety of Mycroft's clothes.

**Couple 2**

Of course this happens to Sherlock and John, as well. Loads happens between these two that they try so hard not to make it a fight. Sherlock's almost perfected the art.

He hears John's keys unlock the front door downstairs as his experiment blows up upstairs. It didn't really _blow up, _it just sort of got too much pressure in one glass beaker and the beaker broke. Then, a piece of glass from said beaker hit and shattered another, then Sherlock dropped the one he was holding on top of another, and both broke, and one of them was holding sulfuric acid (which he isn't supposed to be using without gloves anymore) and now the table is burning. Sherlock can hear John's steps coming up the stairs and Sherlock begins to panic. He can't clean the table (that's burning) because he'll burn himself and he can't clean up the glass without cutting himself. He hears John open the front door. John's whistling. Good sign.

"John, darling, how are you?" Sherlock kindly asks as John steps through the front door. He takes John's face in his hands and kisses John.

"Oh?" John breathes out as Sherlock gives him a second to breath. John's in a great mood, so he takes the love as a gift. "What's this?" he smiles and kisses Sherlock again. He rubs Sherlock's ribs through his soft shirt and keeps kissing.

"I just," Sherlock says between kissing and latching onto John's neck. "I missed you, that's all."

"I've only been gone a few hours."

"I know, too long," Sherlock pulls John to the bedroom, successfully diverting John's eyes away from the table.

A while later, John untangles himself from Sherlock's hold and Sherlock momentarily forgets and lets him go. John makes it to the kitchen and Sherlock jumps out of the bed as John gazes at the table.

"What did you do?" John slowly asks.

"It was an accident, John, I'm sorry."

John takes Sherlock's hands and examines them. "Oh god, Sherlock, are you hurt? Are you ok?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine—"

John pulls Sherlock into a hug and says, "I'm glad you're ok."

Sherlock smiles and hugs John back. _Fight averted, _Sherlock thinks.

Sometimes John knows he's screwed up and he needs to apologize to Sherlock before Sherlock finds out, too. He's done his share of shrinking Sherlock's shirts or ruining experiments, and after a long sulk Sherlock lets it go. But there is one thing that John needs to pull out all the stops to ensure Sherlock doesn't get angry.

Today it's over the coat. It wasn't John's fault, but he feels that it's his duty to make Sherlock happy because he's the person that will see Sherlock's wrath. Sherlock was running after someone and had to lose the coat; too much weight. John didn't stop to pick it up either, he left it to one of Lestrade's officers. Well, Lestrade's officer did pick it up but not until after almost every single member of that crew stepped on it. Someone ripped it, no less. John wondered how the hell that one happened before making his way to a panting detective that is back to boyfriend-mode because detective-mode just won the case.

"Sherlock, that was brilliant."

"Thank you, John."

"No, I mean it, absolutely fantastic. I can't believe you caught him. _You, _all you."

"Yes, I was there, John."

"But it was amazing, love, really it was—"

"John, what are you holding behind your back?"

"What?"

"What is that, in your hand? And where's my coat? Surely someone picked it up?"

John looks around, "Oh, sure. But the case, Sherlock, and the chase you were—"

"Brilliant, fantastic, amazing, yes yes. John, is that my coat?"

"Is this your…oh, no, of course not."

Sherlock scowls, "John," he demands.

John lowers his head, "Yes, love?"

"My coat."

John hands Sherlock his coat and begins with apologies, "I'm sorry, love, it just got a little…trampled on. I'll buy you a new one, I promise. Please don't be upset. Think of the case, think of how brilliant you were, think of—"

"John," Sherlock breaths deep and closes his eyes, "I'd like to go home now, please."

They go home in silence and when they get home there's silence. The next day John buys Sherlock a new coat (exactly the same one) and Sherlock ends the silence. He's still angry, yes, but John knows he'll be over it, soon. Hopefully.

**Couple 3**

Jim knows that making Sebastian angry is the last thing he wants to do. He does his best to keep Sebastian in a good mood and he succeeds. For the most part, Sebastian doesn't care if Jim is angry, but there are a few things that will make Jim _so _angry that Jim will think about breaking up with him and firing him, but he won't.

One thing that Sebastian can do to make Jim this angry is, well, killing the wrong person. It's only happened once, mind you, and this is why.

Sebastian's trailing a man named Arthur Novak. Arthur Novak is easy to trail because Arthur Novak has bright orange hair and fair white skin, plus bright green eyes and a very distinct mole on his left cheek. Sebastian sees no problem in killing this man and begins trailing him.

After a while, Sebastian gets hungry so he stops for a quick snack. Arthur Novak stops into the same café, so Sebastian thinks he's good to go. He follows Arthur Novak out of the café and once Arthur Novak gets to his flat, Sebastian sets his perch in the building across, finally gets his target, and shoots Arthur Novak.

On a normal day, Sebastian doesn't bother on follow up to make sure a victim is dead, but today he's got time so he goes across the street to check. When he gets there, he examines the body and realizes there is no distinct mole on his left cheek.

"Oh, crap," Sebastian whispers to himself. He hears the front doorknob jiggling and panics. He makes his way to the front door, hides behind the door, then slips out as the wife opens the door and moves to examine the body.

"Shit, shit!" Sebastian shouts at himself as he gets to the street and walks in circles. He takes his phone out to call Jim and whispers, "Shit, shit!" until Jim picks up.

"Yes?" Jim answers the phone.

"Heeeeeey, sweetie."

"Yes, Seb?"

"What are you up to?" Sebastian asks as he walks down the street because he can hear sirens.

"Oh, you know," Jim says. He sounds very annoyed at Sebastian.

"Sounds like…" Sebastian can hear the sirens right behind him and know his bag looks kind of suspicious for a shooting that just happened yards away from him. He begins running down the street and ducks into an alley.

"Are you running?"

"Yeah, kind of," Sebatian pants, peering around the corner back down the street.

"What's going on, Seb?"

"Nothing, nothing. How are you? I feel like we haven't talked in days."

"Seb, are you running from the police? I hear sirens."

"What? No, that's absurd. Maybe there's a fire. Anyway, I miss you, Jim, let's go out for dinner tonight, huh? My treat. Let's go," he pauses to say, 'Shit!' to himself as a police officer starts walking down the street looking for clues towards him. He continues, "Let's go suit shopping tomorrow, huh? You're due for a new…uh, a new…" he trails off.

Jim cuts him off anyway, "Sebastian are you running from the police? Answer me."

"Jim, I love you, ok?"

"Sebastian, you're scaring me."

Sebastian holds his hand over the phone to drown out his own words, "Jim," he whispers into the phone, "I shot the wrong guy!"

"You, what?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I must have…I must have lost him when I stopped at that café…"

"You were trailing a victim and you _stopped to eat_?"

"I'm sorry, ok! I was hungry!" Sebastian drops into a crouching position against the wall in the alley as he waits for the police to pass. He rubs his eyes again, "I'm sorry, Jim, and I'm kind of scared, so…Jim," Sebastian pauses, "Jim I think someone's coming…" he crouches lower against the wall, "Jim, if I die right now, remember that I—"

Sebastian doesn't finish because it's Jim that comes around the corner and grabs Sebastian's collar, pulling him into a standing position and pushing him against the wall. "You _idiot,_" Jim hisses, "You killed the wrong guy? Do you have any idea how this is going to look? What this is going to do for business?"

"I'm sorry, ok! I didn't mean to, it was a mistake!"

"You idiot, Sebastian! I leave you to one task today, just one! And look what you—" Jim stops and looks at Sebastian's face, "Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just really scared, I thought you were a cop! I don't want to go to jail, I don't want to go without you! And now you're angry, I didn't mean to, Jim! Please don't fire me and leave me here again…" Sebastian rubs his eyes.

Jim stares at him with wide eyes. He's never really seen Sebastian cry unless Sienna's the one making him cry and it breaks what bit of heart he has. He takes his hands off Sebastian's shoulders and touches his face. "Are you alright?" he breaths.

"What?"

"Are you ok? I know," Jim takes a deep breath and lets the anger leave him for a minute, "I know you're scared, but it's ok, you're not going anywhere and I'm not, either."

Sebastian takes hold of Jim's hands that are on his face and Jim kisses him. After a minute they hear a police officer come down the alley, but once he spots them he turns away and leaves them alone. Jim pulls away once the police officer is gone and rests his forehead on Sebastian's. He pushes Sebastian harder into the wall.

"Ow, Jim, I've got my gun on. You're hurting me."

"I know," Jim illustrates his point by pushing harder.

"Ok, ow, alright. I'm sorry, Jim, I'll apologize forever. Ow."

"I know you will," Jim kisses him again.

Finally, Jim pulls him off the wall, takes his hand, and leads him home. Sebastian does apologize for a long time, but his apologies contain Jim's anger and Jim doesn't fire or leave him.

_***So, yeah, it's supposed to be each man trying to cover something up. Not sure if the point gets across. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know, of course! **_


	41. Chapter 41

**Couple 1**

Greg takes time off while his daughters visit in the summer, and while his department can respect his wishes, there are of course a…few…people that would rather he be called than Sherlock. Greg's had the girls for just over a month when the first emergency occurs. And it's their second summer with him, so of course they're familiar and comfortable with Mycroft by now. But Mycroft's never actually been completely alone with them. Sure, if Greg needs to shower or something Mycroft will entertain them for that ten-fifteen at most minutes while he's occupied, but never like _this. _

So Greg was called an hour and a half ago, and only in an hour and a half has Mycroft learned basically everything he needs to know about Greg's youngest and that is that she is…different (that's a nice word right?) when Greg's not around. She's not exactly a brat, she's a good enough kid, but she's just…different.

Mycroft's sitting across the room from the two girls and they've been glaring at him for a little under an hour. Mycroft checks his watch, one hour. He rolls his eyes. "Are you two finished?" he asks.

They shake their heads, no. Lindsay's eyes glare a little bit more.

"Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?"

They shrug. That's the bitch about the silent treatment. You don't know what you've done until they decide to talk. At least, that's how Mycroft's seeing it.

You see, poor Mycroft is innocent. He didn't do anything. What happened was, he allowed the girls to have one treat each because they _were _being good while their Daddy had to leave. They were perfectly fine, saying please and thank you and sitting quietly so Mycroft could go into the office and get some work done. Then Lucy asked for another candy—

Alright, back up. This was fifteen minutes after Greg left. So, yeah, Mycroft rewarded prematurely, but he doesn't have kids, he doesn't know. So, anyway, Lucy asked for another candy and Mycroft said they should wait until Greg comes home so he can decide on the candy. Well, Lucy being a child and (as Mycroft's learning) a very spoiled child, she needs to have her way. So she throws a fit. And Mycroft being scared as this is his first time with a young child since he was, what, 12? He's letting her throw this fit.

So she stopped crying and screaming and Mycroft asked, "Are you done?" Which is apparently the wrong this to ask because she started yelling about how she was so very much not done, so he took action and did what Greg would do and that was to sit her at the kitchen table until she stopped crying. Which was apparently the wrong thing to do because Lindsay went off on him about how their Daddy was so not going to be happy about this. Mycroft let them both yell and scream and left the room, so they followed him. Mycroft went to the living room, sat in his favorite chair, and as smug as ever said, "Go ahead and keep yelling, I'm not afraid."

I suppose this was quite clever because he acted like he didn't care until the girls stopped and sat across the room from him. And now they're glaring and have been for about an hour.

"My Daddy is not going to be happy that you punished Lucy," Lindsay says ten minutes after Mycroft asked if they were finished.

"I did not punish her, she was to sit at the kitchen table. She didn't stay at the table, therefore no punishment was had."

"Still."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to see what your Daddy says when he gets home, won't we?"

They sit in silence another ten minutes and Lucy informs Mycroft that she is hungry. He asks what she'd like, names everything they have to eat in the house, and she denies everything.

"You're going to have to work with me here, Lucy, otherwise I'm going to make you something and you're going to eat it regardless of if you want to eat it or not."

"Prisoners don't get a choice of meals, either," Lindsay says.

Finally, _finally!, _Greg walks through the front door. "I'm home!" he calls through the flat. He walks into the living room and sees the three loves of his life sitting glaring at each other, two against one. "What's going on here?" he asks.

Mycroft looks up at him, then at the girls, expecting them to talk. Mycroft doesn't want to tell on them, that could make things worse.

Greg looks at the girls. "Someone talk," he says.

"Mycroft punished Lucy!" Lindsay says.

"What?" Greg asks. He sounds angry.

"I asked her to sit at the table while she settled down. She didn't."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. We've been sitting here since."

"What did you need to settle down from?" Greg asks Lucy.

"Mycroft wouldn't let her have candy," Lindsay says.

"She had already had a candy," Mycroft defends.

"Is that right?" Greg asks the girls. They nod. "Why did you throw a fit, Lucy?"

"I wanted another."

"Did Mycroft say no?"

She nodded.

"Then you didn't need another."

Lindsay stands and explodes, "You're on his side?"

"It's my understanding that nothing happened and that you two were acting like brats, is that right? Don't act like I don't know you two."

Lindsay sits and hangs her head. Greg looks at Mycroft. Mycroft raises his eyebrows like, 'I'm not answering that.' Greg looks at the girls again, "Is there something you want to say to Mycroft?"

"Sorry," they both mutter.

"No, a real apology, please," Greg says, his voice raising a tiny bit.

Lindsay shoots Greg a dirty look, then stands and walks over to Mycroft. "I'm sorry," she says, then falls on him for a hug. Mycroft's not expecting a hug but after a second he returns it and thanks her for her apology. Lucy hugs him too and he lets them both go to hug Greg.

Greg instructs the girls to leave and he and Mycroft talk about what happened. Greg apologizes and says that they act like that sometimes, Mycroft just sits shocked and not really knowing what to say or how to act, he's very afraid Greg's going to blame him for something. But all ends well and the next day when Greg has to leave, the girls behave very nicely for Mycroft and Mycroft rewards them _later _for good behavior.

**Couple 2**

It may very much surprise you that Sherlock is good with kids. Of course he finds parenthood boring and tedious, but of course he doesn't have kids. It's not often that he has to babysit, but lately he and John have been graced with the presence of John's niece, Harry's daughter. She's two now and pretty terrible, but for the most part she's a good baby.

And, well, John's not so good with babies. He's never really understood that babies can feel when someone's tense or nervous, and he's always tense and nervous around babies because they're small and fragile and quite frankly babies are freakin' scary little things.

But Sherlock's not like that. Sherlock's not afraid of anybody, he came face to face _alone _with one of the most dangerous people on the planet how many times and he was only afraid when John was in danger. So it's easy to say that babies don't scare Sherlock.

John wakes up early to answer the door when Harry arrives. She's bringing her daughter, Jessica, early because she's headed out of town for a trip with Clara (yeah, they got back together). Sherlock and John have been asked to keep Jessica for two days, only one night. It shouldn't be that bad, John constantly thinks. He's asked Sherlock to pause experimentation and most importantly not experiment on their niece.

Luckily Jessica is still asleep when Harry drops her off so John takes her to their bed and lets her sleep between them. A while later John gets up and needs to shower, but Jessica is still asleep so he leaves her in the bed and not in the playpen. While John's in the shower, Jessica wakes up and begins pulling on Sherlock's hair. Sherlock shouts and turns over, looking right in the face of a grouchy looking two year old.

"Oh, hello you," Sherlock says. She grunts at him. "Where's John?" She glares at the bathroom door. "Ahh, shower." She pulls at Sherlock's hair again. "Hey, that's enough. I'm awake." She glares at him. "Do you remember me? What's my name?"

"Uncle 'Lock."

"That's right. Are you hungry, then?" She grunts. He gets out of bed and pulls her with him. They go into the kitchen and he gets her a bowl of the only cereal they have. It's bland, but of course he isn't one to go for flavor, especially when he's not the one eating it. She eats while glaring at him and doesn't stop until after she's done.

While she's eating, John comes out of their room and tells him that Sarah called asked him to go in. She said it was an emergency and that he _is _the last on the list, that's just how much of an emergency it is. Sherlock reluctantly lets him go, but not after John bribes him with practically his whole soul to be able to go and leave Jessica with Sherlock for a few hours. John knows Sherlock can manage and Sherlock knows he can manage, but that's not the point. The point is that he shouldn't have to because John agreed to this, John can watch her, but finally John leaves and Sherlock and Jessica are alone.

Their alone time starts with staring at each other for half an hour. They're sitting on the floor, her toys surrounding them, just staring at one another. Everyone once in a while Sherlock will take a drink of his coffee, then Jessica will take a drink of her juice, then the cycle will end then continue. Finally, Sherlock picks up a red ball and rolls it to her. She rolls it back and for half an hour they silently roll a ball to each other.

For an hour after that it's fine. Sherlock gets up to read and Jessica plays silently on the floor. Then, well, Sherlock needs to change her.

"Uncle 'Lock," she says, grabbing at her diaper.

"Oh, oh no." She glares at him. He gets up and gets a diaper, lays her down and changes her. He's very stoic through the whole thing and while he does finish flushed and pale, his stomach slightly ill, he succeeds.

They eat lunch after much debate. Sherlock asks her if she wants anything edible in the flat and she says no and throws anything he gives her. Macaroni ends up all over the floor, spaghetti noodles end up cracked and all over the floor, and even a banana somehow ends up on that floor. Sherlock takes note to clean before John gets home but even he knows right then that that won't happen. Finally Jessica settles on a cheese sandwich, which Sherlock still manages to screw up.

After lunch Sherlock realizes he should get her dressed before John gets home. This plan calls for chasing her around the flat for almost an hour while she thinks it's a game and his patience wears thin. Finally he grabs her and changes her while she kicks him in the chest and screams. He lets her go once she's dressed and within ten minutes she's naked again because she knows it'll piss him off.

"Uncle 'Lock."

"Yes?" She smacks him in the face with her shorts. He groans, then chases her again and once she's dressed he sits on the floor and waits for her to sit and play with him. Instead, she pouts in the corner and he continues reading.

By then John comes home to find the two of them pouting at each other, one on the couch and one in the corner.

"What's going on?"

"Uncle 'Lock is mean," Jessica says.

John looks at Sherlock.

"Jessica is mean."

"Mature, Sherlock."

"She started it."

"How did a two year old start it, Sherlock?"

"She pulled my hair this morning!"

John rolls his eyes and addresses Jessica, "What happened, baby?"

"Uncle 'Lock is mean!"

"What happened?" She grabs at her shirt and shorts, then glares at Sherlock. "He made you get dressed?" She nods. "Well he was supposed to." He walks over to her and reaches to pick her up but she stands, laughs, and runs to Sherlock. She climbs onto the couch and jumps on his stomach, still laughing. "Oh, funny," John says, "Just run to Uncle Sherlock." She lays her head on his chest and smiles. "This isn't fair, you know," John says.

Sherlock pulls her tight against him and rolls over so they're side by side on the couch. "Ssshh, John, it's naptime."

John laughs and leaves the room.

That night and the next day are the same, Sherlock and Jessica rebel against John but fight with each other. It works for them, though, and when Harry goes to pick Jessica up, she doesn't want to leave. But she does and then Sherlock is sad but won't tell John why he's pouting, but John knows. Sherlock just loves his niece.

_***Guys I am so sorry I've taken eternity to update. I've been way busier the past two weeks and finals are coming up so I'm trying to work on school and not so much this and other things. Couple three will be up tomorrow, I promise. Again, I'm really sorry! 3 **_

**_*Also if you want to read more about Sherlock being freakishly adorable with kids (his own kid!) read _Paragraphs of Parenthood _and _Short Stories of Parenthood, _both by me. Also, in _Holmes Family Christmas, _by me, it's a different Mycroft (uh, AU?) where he has two sons and Sherlock is adorable with them. Also, if anyone can recall if I named Harry's daughter something different in another story then I'm sorry. I just forgot. _**


	42. Chapter 42

**Couple 3**

Sebastian really hates the men his sister dates, right? For the most part they're not good guys anyway, and Sebastian _kills _people for a living, so really he has no problem hating a man he's never met.

Sienna's most recent man would actually be a decent guy if Sebastian didn't hate men on general purpose, and also the most recent man has a son. Sienna thinks this guy is finally 'the one' and Sebastian half way hopes so because he can't take any more of this.

So anyway, this guy has a son, Logan, and since Sienna thinks this boyfriend is the one, she's already taken over roles of step-mother. She takes him to school, she picks him up, she takes him to the activities he needs to go and she's also introduced him to Sebastian and Jim. A few times, as a matter of fact. It's been enough times now that when Sienna has an emergency and Sebastian's the first person she can think of, she knows she can leave the boy with Sebastian.

Sebastian protests, of course. "What am I supposed to do with him all day? Do I have to feed him? Clean him? Do I have to, like, change his diaper or something?"

"Seb, he's five. It'll be fine, I promise. You're doing me a huge favor, you have no idea how much I appreciate this!"

Sienna left with giving Sebastian and Logan each a kiss.

That was fifteen minutes ago and now Sebastian and Logan are sitting on the couch staring at each other. Sebastian's no good with kids, never has been and will never have to be, so this is all new to him. Sure, Logan is five and five year olds aren't really that high maintenance, but Sebastian still doesn't know the basics. He checks the clock on the wall, it's 10:30 AM.

"Hungry?" he asks Logan.

Logan shakes his head. He looks around the living room and fixes his eyes on the TV. "Can I watch TV?" he asks.

"Uh, sure," Sebastian turns the TV on, "What do you want to watch?"

Logan shrugs. This causes them to flip channels for fifteen minutes.

"Can we play a game?" Logan finally asks.

"Uh…what game?"

"Do you have games?"

"No."

Logan sighs, "Never mind."

They flip channels for another fifteen minutes. After that, Sebastian asks, "What's in your backpack?"

"Just stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

Logan nods at Sebastian's backpack on the floor next to Sebastian. "What's in yours?"

In Sebastian's backpack is his gun and cleaning supplies that he very quickly had to throw in the bag when Sienna rang the doorbell. "I can't tell you," he tells Logan.

"I can't tell you either."

The two stare at each other for a minute, then Logan moves on. "Where's your room?"

"Through that hall."

"What about that man?"

"What man?"

"The man with black hair."

"Jim?"

Logan shrugs.

"Jim lives in there with me."

"Why?"

Sebastian grows very uncomfortable very quickly, and it's very obvious; even to a five year old. "No reason."

"Let me see in your bag," Logan says.

Sebastian stares at him and finally says ok. He takes everything out one by one, sets it on the table, and when he's done he sits back so Logan can see.

"It's like a puzzle," Logan says.

"Yeah, kind of."

"What is it?"

Sebastian looks at him with a 'you're-kidding-right?' face. "It's a gun."

"What do you have a gun for?"

"For work."

"Are you a policeman?"

"No."

"Are you a soldier?"

"Well, yeah."

"Cooooooooooooool," Logan says. He scoots a bit closer to Sebastian. "Have you been to war?"

"Yeah, I have."

"Did you fight people?"

Sebastian chuckles, "Yeah, I suppose I did."

"Did you kill anyone?"

Logan looks genuinely curious but even Sebastian knows what's appropriate and inappropriate to talk about with a five year old. "I can't remember."

"Damn," Logan mutters.

"Hey, are you supposed to say words like that?"

Logan shrugs. Sebastian watches Logan stare at the pieces of gun.

"Can you put it back together? Or is it broken?" Logan asks.

"I can put it back together. I was cleaning it. Do you want to see it put together?"

Logan nods. Sebastian takes every piece one by one and tells Logan what it is and what it does. Soon the gun is all put back together and Sebastian sets it back on the table.

"Can I hold it?" Logan asks.

"I don't think you should."

Logan sighs, "All right." He looks around. "Have you got anymore?"

Sebastian thinks for a minute of whether or not he should show Logan their gun collection. He wonders what Sienna would think of Logan telling her that Sebastian showed him the guns. Then Sebastian thinks, _Eh, not my problem, _then leads Logan into the office where the guns are. He takes out each one and shows Logan, but doesn't let Logan touch or hold them, which is responsible, right?

When they finish, Logan walks around the office and looks at everything. He gets to the desk and stops because on top of the desk is the gift Sebastian got Jim for his birthday, and that is a bag of water guns (he thought it'd be cute). Logan stares at it and Sebastian walks over to him.

"What's that one?" Logan asks.

"That's a water gun."

"What's that?"

"You don't know what a water gun is?" Logan shakes his head. "Well, it's a toy. You fill it with water and when you shoot, the water shoots out." Sebastian demonstrates by shooting Logan in the face with water. Logan gets an angry look on his face, which makes Sebastian laugh, and after a second Logan laughs too.

"Can I have one?"

Sebastian gives him a gun and Logan immediately shoots him with water. Logan laughs and Sebastian shoots him back, and soon they're just standing in the office shooting each other with water. Finally, Sebastian's gun runs out of water so he grabs another and runs to the kitchen to fill it again. Logan runs after him and keeps shooting him, but once Sebastian's is full Logan's is out. So they have to take a time-out for Sebastian to fill Logan's gun. Once they start to play again, the run all over the apartment shooting each other and wetting almost everything. Soon they're both soaked and the apartment isn't in any better shape.

Then Jim walks in. Sebastian and Logan pause in the middle of the living room in mid shoot, their guns still pointed at the other.

"What…the…hell…" Jim starts.

"Sienna called, I had to babysit. You remember Logan, don't you, darling?" Sebastian says in his most kind voice. He really doesn't want Jim to blow up with anger, at least not right now with Logan in the living room.

They all sort of stand around watching each other for a minute until Logan turns his gun and Jim and shoots. Sebastian watches the whole thing like being in a car accident, you could prevent it but you're in a momentary panic and you can't look away or stop anything from happening. Sebastian sees Jim's face turn to full on anger and he covers his face. Logan begins to giggle. Sebastian looks at Logan and feels afraid for the kid's life, then he begins to feel giggles boiling in his body. Sebastian raises his gun at Jim's head. Jim raises his head and looks at Sebastian.

"Sebastian," Jim warns.

Sebastian chuckles and pulls the trigger. A clear jet stream of water hits Jim right in the forehead, water runs down his face and onto his suit. Logan laughs hard and loud at this, which makes Sebastian laugh, which makes Jim more angry.

Jim angrily pulls on his tie and walks to the hall entrance leading to their bedroom. He disappears down the hall shouting, "Westwood!" and "Immature!"

Sebastian and Logan stand in the living room laughing and for a minute, Sebastian thinks Jim's going to emerge down the hall and shoot them with real guns, but instead Jim comes from their room with two water guns of his own. Sebastian's not sure where those guns came from, but then he remembers Jim shooting him with them one night while Jim was drunk. Jim attacks and shoots Logan first, then Sebastian, and soon they're all shooting each other.

They play so long that they have to refill each of the guns at least seven dozen times, the whole flat is soaked, and their clothes are so wet they have to throw them in the drier. Finally they stop because Logan gets hungry, and after lunch Logan takes a nap.

After Sienna picks Logan up and Logan tells her about the day they had, then Logan and Sebastian refuse to part ways for fifteen minutes, Jim asks Sebastian if having Logan all day suddenly made him want kids or something.

"Ha!" Sebastian laughs, "No, no. Not for us."

"I didn't mean for _us_. Of course I'm not having kids. I meant for _you._"

"I don't understand."

"I mean that you're very capable of finding someone to settle down and have a family with."

"You mean…leave?"

"Yes."

"Is that what you want?"

"No, I'm asking if that's what you want."

"What, after one day with my sister's boyfriend's son? No way. I've already settled down. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not, baby." Jim half smiles but doesn't look at Sebastian. Sebastian takes Jim's chin in his hand, "Hey, I'm serious. That's not what I want." Sebastian leans over and kisses Jim once, then twice, and after that Jim smiles.

Sebastian gets Logan again about a month later and instead of water fights, Sebastian teaches Logan new ways to be devious to his dad's girlfriend. He teaches Logan about cellophane wrap on toilet seats, replacing shampoo with honey, and the good ol' wet hand/wet blanket sleepover trick. Although Logan's too young to do these things on his own, they have a good time using them to trick Jim.

_***Cute!Sebastian being cute with kids that's all bye. **_


	43. Chapter 43

**Couple 1**

You would think Mycroft would be on top of things, right? Or at least make sure Greg is. But the time has come when Mycroft's big mind is clouded with so much mundane human business (_love_) that he just doesn't make sure Greg's paid his bills.

Not that Greg's bills matter. His power, his water, his heating; it's not as though he uses any of that since he practically lives with Greg. So he's a few days behind, what does it matter?

What matters is that Mycroft is getting his bathroom re-done so they have to stay at Greg's for a while. It's convenient for them to have two apartments, really. They don't have to stay at a hotel. Well, what also matters is that their other apartment (Greg's) has no power because he didn't pay the bill.

At midday it's fine because obviously they don't need lights on midday. But in the evening, things grow weary. Mycroft walks into the bathroom, tries to turn the light on, doesn't succeed, and yells.

"It's not that bad, Mycroft. Light a few candles. I'm sure I've got some flashlights."

"This is ridiculous, Greg. All could be solved had you paid your bill on time."

"All could be solved if I didn't have my own bills," Greg mumbles at himself. He hands Mycroft a flashlight and Mycroft glares then disappears into the bathroom.

Half an hour later it's dark.

"We could go out," Greg suggests.

"It's Tuesday night. Where are we going to go?"

"I was just suggesting. You're not really helping the situation. It's not that bad."

"Complete darkness, no television, and my laptop is almost dead. Tell me, what is good."

Greg wraps an arm around Mycroft, "We're together."

Mycroft half smiles and kisses Greg, "Fine. Let's find something to do."

Well, first they find a few old board games. They sit in the living room playing Monopoly. Mycroft finds joy in this because he's beating Greg so badly, but an hour into the game, Greg throws the board from the coffee table. He sits on the table.

"Problem?" Mycroft asks.

"I don't like losing."

"Apparently."

"What now?"

"I quite liked that game."

Greg glares.

"Fine, what do you have in mind, Greg?"

"It's not like we can read, my eyes don't adjust well to small print and flash light. Getting old sucks, Mycroft."

"This I know, Greg."

"We could make a snack."

"In the dark? Not likely."

"We could play another game."

"All we have left is Twister and I refuse."

Greg leans across the table and grabs the Twister box. He mumbles to himself, "We could play naked Twister."

"Sure, we could also play spin the bottle and hope we can kiss across the circle."

"You've played spin the bottle?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"I don't know. I was probably about sixteen."

"Did you kiss anyone?"

"Two kids; a boy and a girl."

"Did you like it?"

"Did I like what?"

"Kissing them."

Mycroft smirks, "I didn't mind kissing one of them."

Greg smiles. He asks Mycroft, "When was your first kiss?"

"Hmm," Mycroft thinks, "I can't quite remember when."

"Who was it?"

"A boy named Jeff," Mycroft says, smiling.

"What was he like?"

"He was my friend. He was…well, he was Sherlock's tutor."

"How old was he?" Greg asks, angry.

Mycroft laughs, "No, no, not like that. He was a year or two older than I. But he was my friend, and he was gorgeous."

"Did you love him?"

"I was young."

"I loved when I was young."

"I didn't love," Mycroft reaches over to Greg and places a hand on his knee. "Until now."

Greg places a hand over Mycroft's. "Why did you like him?"

"I don't know. He was like me in almost every sense. First of all, he liked me back. I'd never met anyone that…could like me back. Second, he was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Third, we had shared interests. We loved books and art and studies. Fourth, he was smart, terribly smart. He might have been smarter than me."

"But you didn't love him."

"I didn't. Sherlock did."

Greg laughs, "He did?"

"Yes, yes. He was young. He told me he wanted to marry Jeff."

Greg keeps laughing, when he stops he asks, "What happened between you two?"

Mycroft sighed, "Jeff…found somebody else. Somebody better."

"Fool. There is nobody better."

Mycroft squeezes Greg's hand. "Thank you. I made my mother fire him. He came to my home one last time and I stood outside my kitchen as my mother told him off. Then, I let Sherlock throw rocks at him."

"That doesn't sound very nice."

"Sherlock didn't think it was nice what he did to me."

Greg chuckles, "What happened to the brotherly love?"

"It ended as soon as it began."

"Sounds like you had quite the relationship."

"With Sherlock?"

"With Jeff."

Mycroft laughs. "It was not a relationship; it was…two young, foolish boys. It doesn't matter anymore."

They sit in dark silence for a few minutes. Their hands don't part. Greg's fingers begin to stroke Mycroft's palm. "What should we do now?"

"I don't know."

"We could," Greg pauses for dramatic effect, "We could go to bed."

"It's 8 o'clock."

"I know," Greg says, continuing to stroke Mycroft's palm.

"Oh," Mycroft breaths out, "Oh."

Greg stands and holds his hand out for Mycroft. They go to their room, but not before bumping almost everything on the way. Complete darkness does not work well for them. However, it did provide them with nice quality time, which they don't get often. The next night the darkness is welcome, but the night after that they get a hotel because they have the ability to bore even each other.

**Couple 2**

It is Sherlock's fault, of course, that they don't have power. Plugging in too many electrical things in one small flat pays its price, and this is theirs. Mrs. Hudson was so upset that she actually left them to stay at her sister's. John thought to punish Sherlock, but of course if he says the words, "Punish," and "Sherlock," in the same sentence, Sherlock's big mind sees the words all too…welcome.

So John, who is very upset but says nothing, sits on the couch trying to read (it's difficult with candle light), with Sherlock trying to do the same across from him. They're sitting against the arms of the couch, their backs against the arms, their feet battling for more leg space on the cushions. Sherlock scrapes a toenail against the arch of John's foot.

"Sherlock," John breathes; a warning.

"John?"

"Stop touching me."

Sherlock leaves John alone. For a minute. Then he light runs his toes over John's arches again.

"Sherlock," John says again.

"Yes, my love?"

"Don't 'my love,' me, Sherlock."

"Why? You are my love, my love."

John sighs, "Ok. Thank you. But please leave me alone. I'm very upset."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Forgive me."

"I'll forgive you when you fix the power. You're the genius."

"I can't until tomorrow, I've told you that."

John huffs. He doesn't answer Sherlock. Sherlock sits quietly. He accidentally hits his foot against John's. John roughly throws his book down and shouts, "Sherlock!"

"That was an accident, John!"

John picks his book up and silently reads.

"I like your glasses, John."

"Why?"

"They fit your face."

"What does that mean?"

"They fit. They look nice. They look…sexy."

"Sexy?"

"I've heard men talk about librarians for some reason. The reason must be the glasses."

"Are you saying I look like a librarian?"

Sherlock laughs. "I'm saying I would have spent a lot more time at the library had the librarians looked like you."

John smiles. Sherlock can see John look up at him. In the light of the candle and through the glare on his glasses, John's eyes sparkle. Sherlock smiles. John frowns and looks back at his book. Sherlock blows his candle out and crawls across the short space to John. He rests with his nose touching the back of John's book.

"What?" John asks.

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

Sherlock nudges John's book with his nose. John pulls the book down and stares Sherlock face to face. Sherlock leans over and brushes his nose against John's. "You know, we're all alone," Sherlock says.

"So?"

"So we could," Sherlock brushes his lips against John's. "We could make all the noise we want."

"You know I'm upset with you."

"That could be fun."

John smirks. "Shut up," he says.

Sherlock rolls off of him and leaves.

"Where are you going?" John asks.

"I thought you were upset with me?"

"I quite liked the attention."

"Then wait one moment and I shall return, my love."

John sits and waits. And waits. And waits. And waits some more. About fifteen minutes later, Sherlock returns. He is silent. John doesn't even realize it until Sherlock blows his candle out. John jumps.

"You scared me," John says, turning his face to where Sherlock just blew the candle out.

"I meant to," Sherlock says, only on John's other side. John jumps again. "You're jumpy, John."

"Darkness does that to some people."

"Not me."

"'Course not."

Sherlock chuckles in John's other ear. "Stand," he commands. John stands. "Hold your hands out." John holds his hands out. Sherlock grabs them and pulls John towards their bedroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Are you trying to make this up to me?"

"Don't I always?"

"You do, I'll give you that."

"I do. And I will. You'll see."

They reach the kitchen and John realizes he can't feel Sherlock's sleeves. "Did you roll your sleeves up?" John asks, trying to get any clue as to what's going on.

Sherlock chuckles. John can practically hear him smirk. "Somewhat."

"Somewhat? Is your shirt off, then?"

"Mmmmm," Sherlock thinks about an answer. "Yes," he says.

John quickly pulls his hands away from Sherlock's and darts at Sherlock instead. His hands grasp Sherlock's ribs and he tickles Sherlock. Sherlock yelps and takes hold of John's shoulders, trying to push him away, but John pushes harder.

"John, John!" Sherlock yells, "Stop, please!"

"Tell me what's going on!"

"You'll see, I promise!" Sherlock's hands reach the back of John's head and he pushes himself against John. John lets go of Sherlock's sides and moves to his back, then he pulls Sherlock to him. He realizes Sherlock is fully naked and he holds him tighter. "Come on, come on!" Sherlock says. He pulls John down the hall to their room.

But to John's surprise, Sherlock doesn't go to their room. Instead he holds John's hand and pushes open the door to the bathroom. John looks into the room, then to Sherlock.

"For me?"

"Of course."

John smiles. He steps into the room and up to the bathtub, which is filled with steaming water and surrounded by candles.

"You big romantic," John says, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist and kissing his cheek.

"I just wanted to do something for you. I'm sorry, my love."

John sighs. "I wish you wouldn't be so sweet sometimes. This would be easier if I could just be angry at you."

"You've caught on to my master plan."

"You're quite obvious."

"I mean for it to be that way, of course," Sherlock stands in front of John and begins unbuttoning his shirt. When John is fully naked, Sherlock pushes him toward the tub and John steps in.

"Are you going to join me?"

"Is there room?"

John holds his knees to his chest and motions at the other side of the tub for Sherlock. Sherlock smiles and steps in, then sits the same way John's sitting. Their toes tough under the water.

"I think we needed a quiet evening," Sherlock says.

"After the week I've had with you, I deserve a thousand quiet evenings."

"Have I been terrible, my love?"

"Don't ask me that. You know how terrible you can be without a case."

"I just get bored. You know that."

"I know, but we all get bored. You're not ordinary; us ordinary folk are bored all the time."

"You don't seem bored."

"You don't pay attention."

"John," Sherlock breathes. His voice deep unlike anything John's heard in some time. "I always pay attention to you." Sherlock's fingertips breach the surface of the water, then swim to John's legs and run over John's knee.

"Do you?"

"Of course."

John grabs Sherlock's hand and intertwines their fingers.

"I love you," Sherlock says.

"Do you?"

"Of course."

John smiles. "I love you, too."

Sherlock leans over and kisses his love. His hands leave John's and move to the back of his head, pulling John further into the kiss.

After a moment or two, John breaks away. "Bed," he whispers against Sherlock's lips.

It takes them a minute to get out of the tub (Sherlock stumbles when he's excited) and into their bed, but they make it.

After that they sleep and the next morning Sherlock tells John he can't get anyone to fix the electricity until the next day (which is a lie). Mrs. Hudson decides to stay with her sister another night and that evening Sherlock and John don't even bother leaving their bed. And they make all the noise they want.

**_*Once again, I am soooo sorry for the delay of posting. I'm just super busy. But good news! Tomorrow is my last final and after that I'm sure I'll update more. Couple 3 should be up in a few days. I hope you enjoy this chapter. _Ladyhappy _suggested a power outage during the storm and although I forgot about the storm bit, power outage = JohnLock sexytimes. _**


	44. Chapter 44

_***This is a warning, for uh…things that people might want warnings for? Didn't add a warning last chapter and I don't think this one really needs one, but here's one just to be safe, ok? **_

**Couple 3**

This one is the rain's fault, and their unfortunate flat placing. They're on the top floor of their building and though their power went out three hours ago, people on the first floor just lost theirs a few minutes ago. Sebastian tries to wonder why this occurred but his thoughts are stopped because Jim's yelling again. What's he yelling? Sebastian's not sure. Though what he is sure of is the rain just got a fraction heavier and if he listens really closely he can hear each and every drop land on the roof. But of course he can't listen closely because Jim is _yelling. _

"Stop yelling!" Sebastian yells across the room.

"Then do _something!_"

"What is it that you want me to do, exactly?"

"Fix this!"

"The rain? Because I'm sure nothing I do will stop it from coming down harder."

"Why are you so calm anyway?"

"I like the dark. It's nice. Cozy. It's…relieving."

"Lucky for you. I hate this."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Jim is quiet for exactly six second, Sebastian counted, before he starts yelling again. Sebastian is still in the hall closet trying to locate the box of flashlights (they put them all together in a box for this reason) with the handy dandy cell phone flashlight that he downloaded when the storm started. His phone dings in alert that it's only going to last 20% more.

Five minutes later he locates the flashlights and takes them out one by one to test. Out of ten, five work. That's fine. There's only two people in the flat and one is sulking so much, Sebastian doubts he'll get off the couch.

But Jim does. He gets off the couch and meets Sebastian in the hall. Neither sees the other so they bump into each other. Sebastian drops the box (which is quite full) right on Jim's foot.

"God damn it, Sebastian!" Jim shouts. "What the hell is that? A box of rocks!"

"Calm down you absolute crazy person!" Sebastian shouts back. Jim's frantically moving about the narrow hallway. One of his elbows catches Sebastian's ribs, a knee crashes against thigh. "Stop moving!"

Jim moves one last time and immediately loses his balance, falling into Sebastian who falls into the wall. It's very loud when they both hit the ground and Sebastian silently hopes the neighbors the floor below are out because though killing someone is quite rude, being a noisy neighbor is more rude. Then Jim shouts in pain and anger.

"Would you please be quiet? The people below us are going to get us kicked out!"

"Let 'em. I want to live somewhere it doesn't rain and we don't have to go without power."

"You realize that if we had power, all we'd be doing is sitting _in the dark _watching television?"

"At least the TV would be on."

Sebastian untangles himself from Jim and stands. He takes a flashlight from the box and tosses it to Jim. Then he laughs because he accidentally hits Jim in the face.

"What the hell, Seb?"

"Not my fault you have poor motor skills."

"It's dark, I can't see!" he punctuates each word with a raising of his voice.

"Ssshh, ssshhh!" Sebastian says then walks away to the living room. His shin knocks the coffee table as he realizes he's at the couch. He plops down and turns on his flashlight, then lights a match to light the three candles sitting on the table.

Jim takes his time leaving the hallway, and once he's in the living room, he tosses his flashlight at Sebastian.

"Ow! What was that for?" Sebastian shouts as it hits his chest.

"Payback."

"I didn't mean to hit your face!"

"I didn't mean to hit your chest. I _meant _to hit your face, too."

"That wasn't nice."

"It wasn't?"

Jim walks over to Sebastian and straddles Sebastian's lap. "Get off," Sebastian warns. Apart from there being no light, there's also no cooling and it's getting very warm in their flat.

"Why?"

Sebastian doesn't answer, instead he grabs hold of Jim's waist and pushes him backwards. Jim's head hits the coffee table before his back hits the ground. Very loudly. Sebastian knows he should be concerned but he's not.

"Dick," Jim mutters. He stands and holds his head. "That was uncalled for. There's no need to be violent."

A sudden idea flashed across Sebastian's mind. Violence…violence is bad. But practice; he has to fight in his line of work, of course. He's not a part of a gym and to his knowledge neither is Jim. And both men have so much pent up aggression that it's fighting to come to the surface each time they touch. So why not try to beat the shit out of your partner? Of course he'll fight back. Sebastian glances up at Jim. A wicked smile grows on his face.

"Hey, what are you thi—" Jim starts. Jim gets cut off by Sebastian lunging, taking Jim down with a shoulder to the stomach, and Jim panting because Sebastian's knocked the wind out of him.

Of course this isn't the first time they've used each other as punching bags and of course Jim knows exactly what's going on, it was just that element of surprise that caught him off guard. Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian's neck and squeezes, then squeezes his legs around Sebastian's waist.

Sebastian wiggles free and off Jim, then jumps and stands in an attack position. It takes Jim a second to get his breath back, and once he does he stands face to face with Sebastian in the same position. After a second of waiting for one or both to say, "This is absurd," they lunge at each other and hit skulls with such force that Sebastian thinks something cracks…

…Oh, nope, that was just his elbows hitting hard wood beneath him. When did Jim get so strong? Sebastian wants to ask, hell he wants to get turned on by it but there's no time because within a second of being on the ground, Jim's lifts a fist and hits Sebastian in the face.

We mentioned this isn't the first time they've done this, right? Of course it's not. So these two men have perfected the art of punching and not leaving marks because that could be bad, right?

So that fist hits Sebastian in the jaw but he was expecting the next one, though unsure of where it was going to come from, so he pushes off the ground and flips them both over, this time Jim hitting the ground again. Sebastian gets off him and tries to run to the kitchen, which is behind them, but Jim grabs hold of his ankle and Sebastian falls to the ground, this time with a large bang of his own. Jim laughs. He crawls to Sebastian and hovers over him.

"Done?" he asks.

"Never," Sebastian says. He throws a fist at Jim's face, only missing because it's dark and instead he hits Jim's neck. Jim's momentarily shocked so he stills, Sebastian thinks about stopping but then Jim attacks again, this time biting Sebastian's ear. It's not hard, of course, but Sebastian yelps and tries to roll away. He's unsuccessful because Jim's knees are squeezing his torso, so he punches Jim's stomach and Jim rolls off him.

Sebastian crawls three feet to the entrance to the hall to their room. Jim gets up and jumps on his back, squeezing Sebastian's neck. Sebastian rears up on his feet and grabs hold of Jim's arms, then thrashes his body and hits Jim against the wall behind him.

When Jim hits the wall, he lets go of Sebastian so Sebastian darts to their room. He makes it to just outside the door when Jim jumps at him and they both hit the wall. Sebastian has a momentary thought of there being a hole in the wall (which there is now) but he stops thinking because one of Jim's fists slams against his ear. Though temporarily at a loss of hearing, Sebastian slams Jim's body against the wall next to them (again) and slams a fist to Jim's mouth. Jim's sure he tastes blood, but he repays Sebastian by a kick to the groin.

It was an accident, of course. Jim can't see Sebastian's legs and he honest to God meant to kick Sebastian in the thigh to give him a dead leg. Sebastian falls backwards into the wall opposite and grabs hold of his…uhm, area.

Jim laughs. He's a man, he knows how bad that hurts, but it's just _funny_. "You ok, babe?" Jim asks, trying to be nice.

"Ow," is all he says.

Jim takes his shoulders and pulls him towards their bed. It's give or take seven feet away but they take the journey slow because Sebastian's sort of lost the ability to walk. They finally make it there and Sebastian plops down on the bed, Jim right next to him.

"Are you ok?"

"Ow."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"I didn't mean to."

"You didn't?"

"I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Never."

Jim scoots closer. Sebastian's hands cover his groin again.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jim says. "I'm just trying to get closer."

"Please don't."

Jim strokes Sebastian's face, feels the swelling there. "I hit you…very hard."

"It wasn't that hard."

"Can I?"

The first time they did this to each other, they hit so hard they were both black and blue for what seemed like weeks. The night they did it, though, they both took turns giving their wounds slow, sweet kisses. It was out of character, sure, but they felt bad. It worked for them. The last time they did this, they did it with less force and still eased the wounds with kisses. So what Jim is asking is if he can kiss Sebastian's wounds.

"Why would you?"

"I want to."

"Go ahead."

Jim raises and hovers over Sebastian. He dips his face to Sebastian's, presses his lips to Sebastian's. He feels the swelling there, Sebastian tastes the blood coming from Jim's lip. Jim's lips meet Sebastian's cheek next; he feels the swell on his cheekbone. He kisses twice, then moves down. He's not sure there's a wound on Sebastian's neck, but he kisses anyway. He lifts his head again to look face to face. His lips brush against Sebastian's.

"Can I?" he asks again.

"Yes, yes," Sebastian pleas.

Jim kisses down Sebastian. He pulls Sebastian's shirt up inch by inch as his lips kiss down inch by inch. He reaches Sebastian's pants. "Can I?" he asks one last time; one last permission grant, just to be sure.

"Yes, do it, please."

Jim breaths out against the hairs below Sebastian's belly button.

"Do it, do it. K-kiss it…" Sebastian trails off as Jim pulls his pants down, "…mmmm…" he mumbles. "…mmm…better." His hands meet Jim's hair. Jim, well, he kisses it all better. All the while Sebastian babbles: "We fought…and that was…Jim, that was…mmmm," he pauses, "_Relieving_. And you, uh, you tackled me. You didn't give me time to appreciate that, but I remember…that was…damn, that was hot, Jim. You're stronger than me, aren't you?" Sebastian's hands leave Jim's hair and he grabs hold of Jim's arms. Jim involuntarily flexes. "Jesus, Jim, when do you even have time to work out?" Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian's waist, resting his hands on the small of Sebastian's back. Sebastian arches into Jim's touch. Sebastian knows he's about reading to finish, so he talks more. "Over…almost…almost better, Jim. Are you…you're going to, aren't you?" Sebastian glances at Jim, "Jesus, Jim. I love…Jim, I…Jim…" he doesn't finish before Jim's touching him again and holding on tight, and he's, uh, finishing…in Jim's mouth.

Sebastian falls back against the bed and Jim kisses up him again. Sebastian's panting because that was physically more hard than their fighting. Jim nuzzles Sebastian's neck and cheek.

"How 'bout you kiss mine now?" he asks.

Sebastian smiles and pushes him over, then sits up, takes his shirt off, and climbs on top of Jim. Then he kisses Jim's wounds better.

The next morning they realize the lights went on somewhere in all of their mess, but of course that didn't notice that their closet light and the kitchen light went on. They were too busy.

Also, the next morning they get a call from the building manager asking them to keep it down next time. The neighbors below did not appreciate all that banging.

**_*Long MorMor chapter. Who doesn't want MorMor sexytimes, right? Again, the prompt for power outage was from _ladyhappy _and this was quite fun, wasn't it?_**

**_*And now I'm done with school (yay!) so I should have a regular uploading schedule again. Thanks _bookgirl_121 _for wishing me luck, that was kind of you : )_**


	45. Chapter 45

**Couple 1**

Greg Lestrade has lived his entire life taking advice from other people. Well, not necessarily advice, he's just lived listening to others and obeying what they say. Call it submissive, call it being good, call it not caring so he'll go with it, but whatever you call it, Greg does it.

It starts with the fact that his mother dressed him until he was nearly thirteen. It wasn't like she actually went in and said, "Greg wear this tomorrow." It's that she just kind of set clothes out and he put them on. He never questioned it, he never rebelled, but one day she stopped setting his clothes out so he shrugged and picked out his own clothes.

And he was always a very, very good boy. He was never rowdy or obnoxious, and if by any chance he was doing something wrong, if a teacher or grown up or another student, even, told him to stop? He stopped.

This continued all through his life. Often times he got stepped on and pushed around, those times doing as told wasn't good. But doing as told made him into a good worker, it made him a good cop. It put him on the fast track to boss, and he became the youngest DI the department had seen in about fifteen years. He was just good at doing as told. Even now as boss, if Sherlock _tells_ Greg to give him time, Greg does.

So it's easy to tell who's in charge when it comes to him and Mycroft. Well, not so much in charge, but often times in relationships, one will take charge and be the leader and the other will fight it or let it happen. Greg's one to let it happen. In his last relationship, his wife was in charge and she pushed him around (not physically), enough to where she was leaving and coming as she pleased and he'd sit back and say ok. But finally she left for good and he let her for good.

So anyway, back to Mycroft, he's usually in charge. Which is easy because he always has been. He's the big brother, and more than that he was so much older than Sherlock that if Sherlock bossed him around it'd be odd. Of course Sherlock was demanding but Mycroft was The Boss. And still is. Just look at him, he's in charge of practically the whole country. Probably even the whole continent. Hell, the entire northern hemisphere is under the control of Mycroft Holmes.

So yeah, Mycroft's usually in charge of Greg. He tells Greg their plans for the evening, he tells Greg the plans for tomorrow. He tells Greg it's time to get up by getting up first, he tells Greg it's time to eat by saying he's hungry. The only thing Mycroft doesn't tell Greg when it's time for is going to the bathroom. But even then Mycroft could probably control that, too.

There are some things Mycroft doesn't mean to control. Take wardrobe for example. If Mycroft mentions to Greg he likes a certain shirt of Greg's, Greg will wear that shirt as many times as possible in one month without even realizing he's doing it on purpose.

Then there's haircuts. Mycroft loves Greg's hair, first of all. He loves the gray, he loves that it's thick, he loves the way it slicks down forward after a shower. He loves Greg's hair. And Greg's got a fantastic head of hair for a man his age. That's another thing Mycroft loves: that Greg's _a man his age _and has still got amazing hair.

So every once in a while, pretty much every three months, Greg will take off to the barber and get it trimmed. It's a habit, another thing he doesn't realize he's doing. But this month, Mycroft just kind of wants to see what'll happen if he grows it for another three months. So he casually slips in, "I really like the length your hair is at," to Greg the night before his haircut, and the next day Greg cancels the appointment.

Greg doesn't mind. It's not like his hair bothers him. It's probably making his head warming this cold winter so he doesn't complain. Not that he would.

Mycroft really likes it. After a month Greg's shaggy head has more body to hold onto, not even in a sexual sense. It's just kind of there. Mycroft likes to run his fingers through it, he likes to smell it, he likes to massage Greg's head because the hair is so soft it feels so good.

At the end of two months, Greg's hair is just sort of a ball of fuzz. It's lost it's appeal, Mycroft's decided. A month ago it was long and nice, but this month it's like a scared cat. It's just too long finally.

One morning after Greg's shower, he rubs his hair with a towel and it all stands straight up. It looks ridiculous (if anything about Greg can look ridiculous) and Mycroft sees the final straw.

"So," he begins while squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush. "It's been five months since your last haircut."

"Has it?"

"It has."

"Hmm," Greg says, looking in the mirror. "Think I should get it cut?" he asks.

"If you'd like."

Greg breathes out a long breath. He knows those three words (four if you take you'd apart) shouldn't confuse him, but they do. 'If you'd like,' could mean, 'Yes, I want you to but you have to want to before you do it,' or 'No, but if you really want to go ahead,'. He scratches his head. His hair is rather long, and a haircut shouldn't hurt it.

"But what do you think?" he asks Mycroft.

"Whatever you want to do."

There it is again, that confusion Greg feels. _Yes or no, Mycroft? _he thinks. He distracts himself by shaving. That he knows he needs.

Mycroft leaves the room while Greg's still thinking and shaving. He thinks. And thinks. And realizing that rather than asking Mycroft, he should ask someone else.

So he goes to work and asks Sally. Sally's a female. A female attracted to males. _No problem_, he thinks.

"Do you think I need a haircut?" he asks while standing behind the tape at a scene a few hours later.

"What?" she asks.

"My hair, do you think it's gotten too long?"

Sally glances at his hair. "Why?"

"I just don't know if I should cut it or not."

"Oh," Sally says. She glances at his head again. She shrugs. "A cut wouldn't hurt it."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, why not? Take a bit off the top, a bit more off the sides."

"Alright, thanks," he says. They go back to work.

The next day he gets it cut. A bit off the top. It actually resembles the length it was a month ago, the way Mycroft liked it. _This should be good_, he thinks. _The way Mycroft likes it._

He goes home to show Mycroft. Mycroft smiles when he sees him. Greg sits on the couch next to Mycroft and runs a hand through his hair.

"I got a haircut."

"Ah, so you did. Looks great."

"Really?"

"Yes." Mycroft goes back to reading the paper.

Greg sighs. "I didn't take much off. It's about the length it was a month ago."

"I noticed."

"Did you?"

Mycroft puts the paper down and looks at Greg. "Yes, of course I did."

"Oh, ok." Greg says.

"What is it?"

"I was…" Greg trails off. "Nothing, it's stupid."

"No, tell me."

Greg sighs. "I just wasn't sure if you wanted me to cut it, so I did, but I cut it the length you like it."

"You didn't know if you needed a haircut because I didn't tell you to get one?"

Greg nods.

"Greg, you can do things on your own. You don't have to do everything to please me."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Well, I…"

"Look, I know you like to be told to do things, and sometimes that's good. But you're an adult, Greg. You can make your own decisions."

"I know."

"Alright. Good," Mycroft leans over and kisses Greg.

Greg gets up to shower. Before he gets to their room he goes back to the living room. "Did you do that on purpose?" he asks Mycroft.

"Do what?"

Greg smiles. "Ok," he says before disappearing into their room. He goes back again. "Chinese for dinner," he says.

"Ok," Mycroft says, smiling at him.

He feels accomplished because for one of the first times in his life, he was in charge.

**Couple 2**

A lot of people will look at these two and see Sherlock in charge. It might be because he's taller and John's shorter so Sherlock being in charge just works, but that's not it. Many people look at these two and see Sherlock saying things like, "I need," or "Go," or "Will you," and many people see John do as Sherlock asks without complaining.

That's to the world outside of 221B, or the figurative 221B depending on the situation. Many people see Sherlock being Sherlock and while they roll their eyes, they miss John saying, "Say thank you," or "Don't say it," or simply just, "Sherlock," to get the detective to do as he's told.

Inside their world, John's in charge and Sherlock never meant for it to be that way. How Sherlock meant for it to be is he'd tell John what to do and John would do, which isn't always wrong, but Sherlock wanted it to be all the time. However, around the same time John marched into Sherlock's heart, John marched in while barking orders that he didn't even know he was giving. He said things like, "Spectacularly ignorant," and Sherlock tried not to be; he said things like, "No, I wonder why not," and Sherlock freakin' apologized, which he never does.

And then Sherlock came back and they fell in love (never fell out of love) and John would say things like, "Eat," and "Sleep," and Sherlock would. Sherlock gained three pounds in his first two weeks back because when John said, "Eat," he damn well did.

Which is all fine and good for John. He's made Sherlock more polite, he's made Sherlock gain a healthy amount of pounds that Sherlock needed a new purple shirt of sex (yes, even John calls it that), and he's made Sherlock sleep so well that he actually snores now. Before he slept like the dead, but now he makes noises, moves without noticing, and he even dreams; all because John told him to.

But of course Sherlock does things that John doesn't tell him to. He wears what he wants, he eats what he wants (just as long as he is eating is John's philosophy), and he gets his haircut like a normal human being.

Sherlock knows when his hair gets too long. It just gets frizzy which is always really annoying, so he knows it's time for a cut. This time, cutting time falls around the time of a case that he needs a disguise for (he needs to actually go undercover and work for a company to find the embezzler). So he goes to the salon and gets a simple cut.

Then he returns to 221B and scares the shit out of John because he looks that different.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" John states while staring at Sherlock's head. "What. Have. You. Done?"

"Haircut. Disguise. Honestly, John, don't you listen?"

"I heard you when you said you need a haircut and I heard you when you said you needed a disguise. I didn't realize you meant _cutting all of your hair off _was the disguise!"

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm angry because your hair, Sherlock, your _hair._"

"Yes?"

John frowns. He whines, "I love your hair."

Sherlock frowns. He didn't realize…he should have realized… "I'm sorry. It's just for a—"

"Case, I know, but damn Sherlock. Don't change the way you look."

Sherlock takes a step towards John and places his hands on John's shoulders. "I'm still me, of course. I just had a simple haircut."

"Simple? Ha! Simple would be going in and cutting maybe this much off," John shows a centimeter fingertip to fingertip. "Simple does not mean getting it so short it's sticking up only an inch off your head. It's not even curly anymore. Hell, forget curly, it's not even black anymore, Sherlock. It's brown. It's so close to red. Do you realize you have _brown _hair?"

"Honestly John it's—"

"And you look younger. A lot younger. A lot younger than me."

"Now, John, I hardly think—"

"No, Sherlock. Just…no," John reaches up and touches the _brown _hair. He kisses Sherlock. "You sure as hell better hope it grows back to normal."

As it grows and as Sherlock works undercover, John learns a few things about his love.

First, Sherlock flips his hair like a teen heart throb. He actually honestly flips it and John realizes this not even a week after the cut and Sherlock can't stop himself from flipping his hair that's not there. The first time John thinks maybe Sherlock's neck is out of place. The second time he thinks there's a bug or something around Sherlock's head. The third time John thinks, _Oh my god, my boyfriend, the Great Sherlock Freakin' Holmes, flips his hair like Justin Bieber. _Of course John doesn't say this out loud, if he did Sherlock would ask, "Who?" and John is very much above explaining to another grown man who Justin Bieber is. He keeps it to himself and counts for the next week how many times Sherlock flips his hair. And it is a lot.

Second, John realizes Sherlock uses hairspray. He doesn't know where Sherlock hides it (his closet) or why he's never told John (he's embarrassed) but the fact is he does. John realizes this because for the first two weeks, John realizes Sherlock doesn't have a certain smell. A sort of fruity smell that he usually has. John's never noticed it before but only notices it now because it's missing. John thinks and thinks and finally, one day at the shop, he passes a woman with a similar scent and asks her what she uses. "Hairspray," she says. John laughs. No wonder Sherlock's hair's always in place. What with that and the hair flipping.

Third, he learns that Sherlock has a patch of gray hair just above his right ear. Well, duh. Sherlock keeps his cool but John knows best that he is under stress a lot, whether it's case stress of caseless stress. Whatever it is, he's got anxiety through the roof and a gray patch to go with it. What John can't figure out is why it's not visible when Sherlock's got long hair. Gray hairs and hairs losing their pigment, that's why they're gray. They could start colored at the root and lose it by the end, but it's not supposed to be gray at the root and color at the end. Or is it? John's not sure because he's never seen it on others, unless it's dyed. But Sherlock doesn't dye his hair (_Does he? No, no! Of course not!_). John figures this is just another thing he'll never figure out.

Sherlock's hair grows all the way back to normal about a year later, long after the case is closed. John celebrates his hair being the right length by taking him to dinner, washing his damn hair, and _telling _him that he is, under no circumstances, banned from cutting his hair ever again without John present. Sherlock agrees, mostly because he's scared, and mostly because of the way John pulls his hair in bed that night.

**_*Hello all! I like this chapter, actually. _ladyhappy _suggested haircuts exactly two months ago and _grey-green-slytherin _recently asked for more of Jim in charge, which you'll get tomorrow. Or will you…you'll never know when Sebastian needs to lay down the law. Anyway, review. Always review. : )_**


	46. Chapter 46

**Couple 3**

Sebastian Moran lived the first sixteen years of his life being pushed around, literally. He had a horrible home life growing up; he lived with an abusive alcoholic father and a mother that was too afraid to stand up or to leave. He never stood up either because his mother would 'be in trouble' for him or Sienna acting out. Finally he did stand up, though. One night while his mother and father were fighting, Sebastian snuck into the kitchen (where they were) and hit his father on the back of the head with the barrel of his shot gun (the one he'd just gotten as a gift from his uncle for his sixteenth birthday). After his father fell to the ground unconscious, his mother and Sienna got in the car and waited for him to come out. That was the first time he'd ever pointed a gun at anyone, and the event taught him not to take shit from anyone.

The first year of his relationship with Jim was not a good one. Jim hurt him a lot and Sebastian took it because he wanted the money, the clothes, the job. He let it happen until one day Jim pushed him too far and he punched Jim and got out.

Jim's never been a person that's let people tell him what to do, of course. Growing up it was just him and his mother and he was basically a huge spoiled brat. As a toddler if he didn't get his way he'd throw a tantrum. As an adolescent if he didn't get his way he'd find other ways to act out like bullying. As a teen if he didn't get his way he would steal or vandalize or drink or smoke. He wasn't really a bad kid, he was very good, but he could be bad, and although he never hurt his mother she always feared him and that's why she let him be bad if he wanted.

Jim never took no from anybody and never feared anybody until the day Sebastian punched him and he realized what that man is capable of. _He's seen war, _Jim thought, _he's killed people. He's done horrible things to enemies and right now I'm an enemy. _Jim backed off and that was the first time he'd ever backed down against anybody.

After that fight the two became the loving-yet-not-so-loving couple we know today. They fight way less and have learned to easily live with each other. And they love it. They both love living with somebody that knows and understands the way they are and the way they can be. They love living with someone that knows these things about them but still accepts them. Nobody else in the world could do that for them but each other.

One thing they've had to work at adapting to is taking suggestions to do something from the other and doing or not doing that thing. That may sound confusing and to them it is confusing most of the time. Because, you see, neither man wants to be the lesser man, but they don't want to be equals. These are big men; Jim's just bossy and Sebastian was a Colonel in the Army for goodness sakes. Of course they both want to be in charge.

One thing Sebastian hates is that during work, Jim is in charge. Jim is his boss. The reason he hates it is because Jim uses it to his advantage, and Jim uses it to his advantage not only because it's kind of mean but because Sebastian _will do as he's told. _Sometimes Jim will like to talk to a client alone so he'll tell Sebastian to wait in the hall. Sebastian will roll his eyes then leave the room. Sometimes Jim wants something to be exactly particular to the way he wants it and Sebastian will have to do it. Sebastian hates it but at the same time he knows that's why he was hired and what he's paid for. So sometimes he'll throw out a "Yes, sir," or "Yes, Boss," and be on his merry way.

Sometimes if Jim's being particularly annoying with his work commands, Sebastian will be more bossy at home. He might make Jim wash the dishes or vacuum, and boy is that funny. Sometimes Sebastian will leave Jim a list of things to do around the house while he's out and Jim will call the cleaning lady he has on speed dial (don't tell Sebastian). Jim really hates when Sebastian takes command at home.

These two men also like to be the boss of each other, of their person being. This can be from anywhere between cutting their finger nails to what to wear. Jim started his own way of telling Sebastian what to wear by buying him his first suit, and since then Sebastian's worn a suit every day, unless he's on vacation. But Sebastian hates when Jim tells him what to do when it comes to his own personal self, so Sebastian has a system (it's kind of like the choosing dinner system).

Say Sebastian needs a haircut, right? It might start on Week 1 and it'll end on Week 8 because that's how long this process takes. First, Jim will merely suggest that Sebastian's hair's getting a bit long. They might be brushing their teeth one morning and Jim will glance at Sebastian's hair. "Your hair's getting a bit long, my love." Jim says. Nice. Simple. Sebastian could easily pop out for a cut and pay for a shave while he's at it. Is that what he does? No. He runs a hand through his hair and shrugs.

The next week Jim will look at Sebastian's hair, which Sebastian doesn't think looks any different than it does from last week, and he'll say something like, "When was the last time you got your hair cut?" or "Did you know your hair gets darker as it gets longer?". Once again, Sebastian could just go out for a cut, but he doesn't. He says, "Yeah it's always done that." And goes on with his day.

The next week, Jim will actually ask Sebastian to cut his hair. He will actually say the words, "Seb, will you cut your hair this week?" and Sebastian will shrug and of course he won't get it cut because that's how this game works: purposefully not doing something your partner wants you to do.

The next week, Week 4, will leave it alone because two can play that game. Sebastian doesn't want to cut his hair? _Fine. His hair. His hair that looks ridiculous standing up in different directions like a twelve-year-old whose mom finally let him grow it out. Fine._

The next week, Jim will demand Sebastian cut his hair.

"Sebastian A. Moran. Cut. Your. God. Damn. Hair."

Sebastian doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Why?"

"It looks awful."

"What's it to you?"

"I have to look at you."

"Then don't."

Jim thinks that one over. "What?"

"Don't look at me."

"Wh-Seb! That's ridiculous."

"Then shut up because it's my head and I'll do with it as I please."

Jim pouts and goes to their room. Sebastian smiles.

The next week, Week 6, Sebastian's hair had grown so long that it actually looks good. It's about to his eyes and past his ears on the side. It looks shaggy and he looks younger. He likes it. He realizes Jim doesn't seem to mind it either. Jim's started to pay more attention to Sebastian's darker brown hair by almost constantly touching it and looking at him more. Sebastian especially notes how often Jim touches it while they're kissing.

The next week, the same occurs. Jim just loves Sebastian's hair. And this week he tells him.

"I really like your hair this length."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's long. Soft. I don't know, there's just something about it."

"Hmm. Odd."

"Yeah. Maybe you could keep it this way a while more."

Sebastian shrugs.

And you know this doesn't happen. You just know the next day, the start of Week 8, Sebastian goes to a barber for a cut and a shave. You just know he took almost all of it off just to annoy Jim. You know Sebastian intentionally waited for Jim to like it just so Jim wouldn't get his way this entire eight weeks. You know Jim is pissed when he sees Sebastian's new cut.

"What the hell, Sebastian?" Jim asks as Sebastian sits down at a table in the restaurant where Jim was waiting.

"What?" Sebastian innocently asks.

"Your hair!"

"What about it?"

"It's gone!"

"Oh. Yeah. I cut it."

"Why?"

"You asked me to."

"I asked you to six weeks ago when all day every day you looked like you just rolled out of bed. Yesterday I told you I liked it."

"Yes, and?"

"Oh, you bastard."

They eat dinner in silence. Half of Jim wants to get up and leave because Sebastian is such a dick, but he doesn't. Sebastian tries to hold back laughter the entire time because the silent treatment has meant he's won.

"You know," Jim says, an hour later, "Maybe I like it better this way."

Sebastian sets his glass down from just taking a drink. He pauses a minute and then says, "I know a great wig shop."

So, yeah, these two obviously never ever agree on who is in charge. But it works for them. They get things done. They live with the results. They torture each other. But one will never get too bossy because they both have keys to the gun lockers.

_***Couple 3 is a ridiculous couple that I love writing about. Hope you all enjoy : )**_


	47. Chapter 47

**Couple 1**

Sometimes it's really unfortunate that Greg's been married before. Of course they've got the girls and the divorce actually brought him and Mycroft together, but when it comes to marriage, Greg refuses because the divorce.

It didn't bother Mycroft so much when they first got together. Of course he too was completely opposed to the idea of marriage. It just wasn't in him. He had Greg and was completely committed, he didn't need to marry Greg to show him how much he loves him.

But eventually that didn't do for Greg. Eventually he wanted more and Mycroft didn't share the view.

"We should get married," Greg suggests over breakfast one morning.

"Married?" Mycroft doesn't look up from his paper. "Why on earth would we do that?"

"Because we love each other, and—"

"Precisely why we shouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Marriage, the pressure to be bound to one another until the end of their days. It's messy. Sticky. It leads to anger, hate, resentment. I've not seen anything good come of it."

"Marriage can be good, it's the bad relationships that—"

"End? I thought my parents had a fine relationship until the day I heard my father talking on the phone to his pregnant mistress. I'm sure you thought your parents were fine until they parted ways and remarried other people. I think it's fair to say you thought you had a great relationship with your wife until you found out she was cheating on you."

"Your father left your mother for another woman, my wife left me for another man. A few other men, actually. And my parents drifted apart over time. Do you really believe any of that would happen to us?"

"It could happen to anyone."

"Well I don't plan on leaving you, I don't plan on cheating on you or growing tired of you. And if you don't plan on doing those things to me, then why not?"

"A similar question can be asked: why? What does it matter if we're married?"

"It just would, ok? I think it'd be nice."

Mycroft finally looks up from his paper. He looks into Greg's eyes, he sees Greg is upset. "I'm sorry that I've upset you, Greg. I just can't bring myself to do that to you; to marry you and perhaps one day want to divorce you."

Greg stands from the table and puts his plate away. His eyes find the clock on the wall and he thanks everything that he's late for work and he can leave the conversation. He regrets bringing it up.

He thinks about everything Mycroft said for a long time. In the back of his mind the words lingered, always there to remind him that Mycroft won't marry him. Greg can only see the good in marriage, not the bad that Mycroft sees.

Months go by and every once in a while Greg thinks about it. He thinks about how much he does want to marry Mycroft, or at least have that symbol of being with him forever. _Maybe with less promise_, Greg thinks. _Maybe if there wasn't so much pressure, he'd like the idea. _

So Greg thinks about it and comes to the conclusion that rings won't hurt anyone. People wear rings for many reasons, sometimes women wear engagement rings for a long while before she's married, sometimes people get promise rings. Greg likes the idea of a promise ring, even though he can't bring himself to say 'promise ring' without feeling like a sixteen-year-old who is going to ask his girlfriend to save her virginity for him. It just sounds ridiculous.

So he buys Mycroft a ring. It's a nice ring. It's silver and kind of scruffy looking, it's not as shiny as it could be. There's a black band around the center that looks green in certain light. Without being sentimental, Greg thinks the color resembles Mycroft's eyes. He likes it.

He plans to give it to Mycroft three weeks after he bought it. He keeps it in his desk drawer at work and each time he opens the drawer he sees it. It just stares at him and reminds him of what it's for. It scares him, it's intimidating. _What if he says no? _Greg asks himself over and over. _What if I give it to him and he says no and I ruin everything and he leaves? _Greg nearly takes it back to the store he got it but John stops him.

"You've got to give it to him, Greg. It's a nice ring."

"I know, it's just…I'm scared, you know?"

"Oh trust me, I know."

"Do you and Sherlock have some? I mean, I've never noticed—"

"Well, we do, but we don't wear them. Well, Sherlock wears his. But I don't wear mine much. Not unless we're going out somewhere or some occasion."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, honestly. It kind of bugs me. Just phantom weight. But I know it's there, the symbol of what it means. His love, that's all it is."

"I understand. I just want that promise, you know? That vow to stay here with me forever. Call me sappy or needy or what have you, but I want to be connected to him."

"I know. Just talk to him. I'm sure he'll understand. Or he won't. It's not the end of the world."

Greg goes home to find Mycroft at the table sorting through bills. This is where the conversation started, at the table. He sits cattycorner to Mycroft and leans back in his chair.

"Home early," Mycroft mutters.

"Yeah, John had to get home."

"Yes, Sherlock's up to his eyeballs in cases, I'm sure he needed help," Mycroft glances at Greg and smiles. "But of course you already knew that."

Greg smiles back. "I did."

They sit in silence for a minute until Greg leans forward on his forearms against the table. His stomach knots with butterflies. He reaches down into his pocket and pulls the small box out, then sets it on the table. Mycroft glances at it.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Mycroft leans back and takes the box. He glances at Greg then opens it, revealing the band inside. "A ring," Mycroft observes.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's a gift."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to have it."

"Look, Greg, I meant what I said. I don't want to get married, and—"

"Will you just—" Greg stops himself from being angry, but he sounds angry anyway, "Look, I saw it. I went and picked it out, actually, and I think it's quite nice. I want you to have it. It's my promise, to…to be here. For you. With you."

Mycroft closes the box. "Greg, it's very nice, but—"

"You don't have to wear it. That's fine. But it's here. My commitment to you is out in the open. You don't have to marry me, just take the goddamn ring."

Mycroft opens his mouth to say something but Greg's up before he can get words out. Greg leaves the kitchen without a word and goes straight to bed.

Mycroft puts the ring in his top dresser drawer and doesn't look at it again for about a month. In that month, him and Greg fight for the first few days but after they get over it. Nobody mentions the ring or marriage and all goes back to the way it was before Greg asked about marriage.

A month after Mycroft receives the ring, Greg is caught in a dangerous shootout with a few drug dealers. It's a quite large situation and Mycroft sees it on the news showing its aftermath. He can't see Greg anywhere and he starts to panic a little. He calls Greg and there's no answer, he even calls Sherlock and John. They don't answer either and by then Mycroft is ready to go home.

He heads home and showers while waiting for Greg. He opens his dresser drawer and sees the ring box. He takes it out of his drawer and opens the box, then examines the ring. He didn't notice how pretty it was before; he didn't notice the black band and the green tint to it; he didn't notice the glow of what it symbolized.

Just then he hears the front door open. He closes the box and drops it into his dresser before going to the living room. Greg is standing there delicately taking his coat off. He has stitches on his head but other than that he looks unhurt. Mycroft goes to him and helps him out of his coat. After that they stare at each other for a minute, then they fall into each other into a tight hug.

"It's a bit silly," Greg says into Mycroft's shoulder, "But I wasn't sure we were going to get out of there."

"I didn't know if you did," Mycroft says.

"I did, though. I'm alright."

Mycroft hugs him tighter. "I'm so glad, Greg."

Two days later they are in a cab going to dinner when Greg notices Mycroft's wearing his ring.

"Hey, you're wearing your ring."

"Yes I am."

Greg smiles. "What'd I do to deserve this?"

Mycroft looks from the window to Greg's face. "You…" Mycroft searches for words, "You loved me," he says. And that's all he says.

Greg gets a ring a few weeks later. And Mycroft actually gets on one knee as he gives it to Greg. Down on one knee, Mycroft says, "This, my dear, is a promise that in five years, when we're together still, I will marry you."

Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft. He wears his ring every day. It's similar to Mycroft's except the black band on Greg's shimmers blue. It's rather perfect.

**Couple 2**

John and Sherlock both agreed that not getting married was okay to them. They agreed that the possibility of divorce is there and hurting each other in one way or another is worse. But they love each other and that's what matters.

Sherlock's the first to suggest rings. He doesn't even really mean to, it's by accident. And at first, John's kind of upset.

It's a long while into their well established relationship. John's fully moved back and unpacked, except for one box. Of course Sherlock knows what's in it, but he grows curious. One afternoon while he's bored and John's at work, Sherlock opens the box.

Of course it's what he expected: John's army stuff. The box was practically labeled so, what with the way it was handled and stuffed in the corner of John's closet. So Sherlock goes through it. He finds photos and clothes and last but not least, John's tags. Sherlock slips them over his head and they dangle around his neck. He smiles. A little piece of John with him all the time.

John sees them later that night as they get ready for bed.

"Sherlock," he begins, "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"Around your neck. What is that?"

"Oh," Sherlock plucks them off his chest with his long fingers. "Your tags. I hope you don't mind, I want to wear them because—"

"No. Take them off."

"But John, I—"

"I don't care. Take them off."

"But—"

"Sherlock." John's voice is angry now. Sherlock takes them off. John holds his hand out for Sherlock to give them to him. John roughly snatches them out of Sherlock's hand and throws them in the box, then leaves the room.

Sherlock lays down and thinks about why John wouldn't like him to have them. Sherlock doesn't understand. He wants a piece of John with him all the time, surely those are a piece of John. Sherlock can't work it out in his head, but by then John's come back into the room. And gets into bed next to Sherlock. Sherlock rolls over onto his side facing John.

"John?" Sherlock whispers into the dark.

"Yes?"

"Can I at least tell you why I want to wear them?"

John sighs. "If you must."

"Because they're you, John. They show what you've been through and what you've done. And I want you with me at all times, a little piece of you to show the world that I'm yours."

It's beautiful to John. He wants to wrap his arms around Sherlock and promise him the world, but he's still angry. He turns onto his side to face Sherlock and rests a hand on Sherlock's side.

"You need to understand why it upset me."

"Tell me why, please. I don't understand."

"It's just that…well, I mean I don't really associate those with good memories, Sherlock. My blood, the blood of other men, are on those tags. I was shot wearing those tags. I'm not the same as I was when I wore those."

While John talks, Sherlock snakes a hand into John's and holds it. He listens, he comprehends.

"I understand, John. I just want that, I want something to show you how much I love you and to remind me that you're here all the time."

John smiles and chuckles a bit. "I'll get you a bloody ring, Sherlock. Just please don't let me see you wearing those again."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! And once more, don't go through my things!"

"No, no. I mean you'll really get me a ring?"

"What? Really?"

"Yes, yes! I want one, John. I want you to pick it out and I want you to give it to me."

"You want me to get down on one knee as well?"

"That's a bit theatrical, but if you would—"

"I'm not going to!" John laughs. His thumb circles around the top of Sherlock's hand. "Would you really wear it?"

"Yes, of course," Sherlock pulls his hand away from John's. "Although, I'm not sure I'm really a ring man. My fingers are ridiculously long, a ring would look offset. And it'd be too large, my knuckle is bigger than the base of my finger."

"What do you want then, my love?"

"Surprise me," Sherlock says.

The week after, John goes ring shopping. He never thought he'd be shopping for another ring after his divorce, and he never thought he'd be getting one for _Sherlock_. John is honestly surprised at Sherlock, but happy nonetheless. He wonders if Sherlock will get him a ring.

A week after that, John takes Sherlock to dinner. They drink wine and eat food, both of them, not just John like usual. It's nice and quiet with no crime in site. John knows he's got an evening open.

After dinner they go home and sleep together. After, while John's still on top of Sherlock, he reaches over into his nightstand and pulls out the box. He hovers over Sherlock on his elbows and opens the box.

"What's this?" Sherlock asks.

"This, my love," John pulls out the ring that's tied to a thin, long, black leather string. "This is your ring."

Sherlock smiles in delight. John dangles it over Sherlock's face and Sherlock reaches for it. "Why is it on a string?" he asks.

"Because you said your fingers are weird, which I agree, so I got this string so you can wear it without it getting in the way of your hands."

"Brilliant, John."

"Thanks. I thought so," John lets Sherlock catch it. He smiles at Sherlock's reaction. He rests his chin on Sherlock's chest. "What do you think?"

"I love it," Sherlock says, sitting up to put it on.

John takes it from him and puts it on Sherlock himself. Sherlock pulls it from his chest and gazes at the ring.

"It's beautiful," he says. "Now I've got to get you one."

"If you'd like, but I know what you mean to me and I know what we're all about. But if you want to get me one, by all means."

Sherlock gets John one the very next day and watches in excitement as John slips it on. It's a perfect fit and Sherlock is very, very pleased.

Although Sherlock wears his every day, he never takes it off actually, John doesn't wear his every day. He doesn't like things on his hand or around his neck, or actually on him at all, but Sherlock knows that symbolically it's there on John all the time, this ring that nobody can see but him.

(PS: The leather string holding Sherlock's ring snapped once and it took Sherlock three hours of panicking thinking he's lost his ring to realize it fell into his tucked shirt, and he finds it by sucking in his stomach and feeling it drop into his pants. He had to leave it there for another hour because he was at Lestrade's office.)

**_*Awww, fluffy stuff. _TheFalling _recently gave me many, many lovely ideas and I had to write about wedding/promise rings. MorMor will be up later because I'm tired. _**

_***I have this thing that when Sherlock is naked in a fic I read, he's always got something around his neck in my imagination. I don't know why. I just think his neck is lovely and needs something around it. I know it's weird.**_

_***Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy : )**_


	48. Chapter 48

**Couple 3**

Nobody really suggested this one. Nobody said, 'Hey I want a ring,' or, 'Hey, let's get married,'. Because nobody was going to. Nobody was going to bring it up. Not that either would. They don't want to get married. In some ways, they just don't want to marry each other.

Sebastian wore his tags every day. They were just a reminder to him of how far he's come and what he's accomplished. They don't hold the same painful memories that Doctor Watson's do, so Sebastian happily slipped them on every morning and happily pulled them off every night.

When he took them off to sleep, he always draped them over his bedside lamp. There they dangled silently in the dark. He never forgot to put them on, and he always noticed when they were moved, even just slightly. So of course he'd notice when they were missing.

It started about three years or so into their relationship, The Stealing, as Sebastian called it. It really wasn't often, maybe once a month. Sebastian called this time Jim's Time of the Month because every month at the same time, he'd get really angry at Sebastian, then really clingy with him, then he'd steal the tags. Sebastian always knew it was coming. He always waited. He'd let Jim wear the tags for a while, maybe a few hours, then he'd ask for them back. And each time, Jim would protest.

"But, but—" Jim would start.

Sebastian would hold his hand further out. "Give them back," he'd say, as if talking to a problem child.

"I don't wanna," Jim would say, as if he was a problem child.

"Please," Sebastian would kindly say.

Jim would stick out his bottom lip and pout. "Fine," he'd say and he pulls them from his shirt, took them off, and handed them back.

This would happen every month, this need Jim has. Twelve times it's happened and now, on the thirteenth time, Sebastian doesn't ask for them back. Jim waits on edge for four hours for the point at which Sebastian would start to miss them, but when the time doesn't come, he grows curious.

Sebastian knows why Jim steals them. He understands that sometimes he just really needs to be near Sebastian, he needs to be reassured. Sebastian knows this because he knows the side of Jim that is fragile and scared of losing Sebastian, he just knows that side doesn't come out. It does have to do with the fact that Jim keeps his emotions to himself, but also because he knows how vulnerable the fear can make him and he doesn't want that. So he acts as if losing Sebastian would be meaningless, and he steals Sebastian's tags once a month as a reminder that it wouldn't be meaningless.

Jim and Sebastian are sitting on the couch watching TV, but Jim's not really paying attention. He's thinking about the tags that are around his neck and he's waiting for Sebastian to ask for them. He thinks about asking Sebastian why he hasn't asked for them.

"Out with it, then," Sebastian says.

Jim looks at him wide eyed. "What?"

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"What you're dying to know." This is a trick Sebastian uses every once in a while. When he wants Jim to talk, he makes Jim talk. And he wants Jim to talk now.

"I'm not dying to know it," Jim looks at the TV.

Sebastian doesn't take his eyes from the screen. "Yes you are, I can hear it."

"Then what am I dying to know?"

Sebastian smiles. He gets up and goes to their bedroom. He lies on his side of the bed, on his side, facing away from Jim's side.

Jim sits for a minute and feels like he wants to know even more now. He follows Sebastian after a few minutes. "Seb?" he asks as he enters the room. Sebastian doesn't make a noise. Jim lies behind him on his back. He doesn't touch Sebastian.

"Ask me," Sebastian says again.

Not being able to see his face makes Jim weary of talking. He can't see Sebastian's facial expressions. At the same time, he can't feel Sebastian's eyes digging into his soul, so he feels like he can talk.

"Why haven't you asked for them back?"

"You tell me why."

Jim thinks. They're silent and Jim thinks Sebastian fell asleep, but soon he wiggles a bit and Jim snaps out of his own mind trance.

"Tell me," Sebastian says.

Jim starts, "You want—" he cuts himself off, unsure of what to say.

"What do I want?"

"You want to know why I take them."

"Yes."

"But you already know."

Sebastian doesn't reply, instead he waits for Jim. They're silent for a bit, then Jim starts:

"You want to know why I take them. I'll tell you why: it's because they're yours—they're you. You in a tiny rectangular shell. They say your name, for some reason that means a lot to me.

"I know it doesn't matter to you, but being together matters to me. I take them to remind myself that if you're gone they won't be here anymore. I guess it's not just these I'll miss; I guess it symbolizes all of your possessions. Without you there's nothing here, nothing but me.

"I was lonely before I met you, to be honest. I didn't have anyone else's dog tags. And I take yours because…well, because I'm not lonely when I have them. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Sebastian doesn't reply. He thinks all of that over and lets Jim think about if he has anything else to say. Sebastian's heard Jim say, 'I love you,' many, many times. But Jim's own words mean more, not generic 'I love you's,' and things like that.

"I just," Jim continues, "I want to wear them because they're you. If I could wear you, I would."

Sebastian half smiles (half because he knows that wasn't a joke). He waits again, but when more doesn't come, he says, "It does matter to me."

Jim closes his eyes. He's thinking Sebastian's going to say something mean or take the tags now. He grabs hold of them without noticing.

"What does?" he asks.

Sebastian waits. He's unsure of if he should say it, but he knows Jim needs to hear it. "Being together. It matters to me."

"Does it?" Jim asks.

"Yes."

Jim smiles. He turns over so his front is pressed against Sebastian's back. "Can I keep them?" he asks.

Sebastian turns over to face Jim. He notices Jim is tightly holding the tags. "Yes, you can."

Jim smiles again. He kisses Sebastian. "I know," he says, "I know I can't give you some things," he frowns, "Like marriage and babies and a normal life. We're four years in now, but if you want those things…you should go now."

Sebastian's eyebrows go down and he looks like he's thinking. He looks at Jim. He says, "Well, it was great knowing you, then," before hopping out of the bed.

Jim rolls onto his back as Sebastian gets out of the bed. He looks at Sebastian in shock and almost fear.

"I'm kidding!" Sebastian says, jumping back onto the bed and on top of Jim.

A while later while Jim is thinking about all of this newly formed commitment that they both secretly agreed to, he thinks about if Sebastian should have something like this, too.

"Hey," Jim says, nudging Sebastian in the ribs. He traces lines over Sebastian's left shoulder tattoo's. "You should get a tattoo of my face."

Sebastian's eyes flash open. "Are you insane?"

"I've been told I am, actually."

Sebastian laughs and tells him no, he actually tells him no about a dozen times because Jim keeps saying, "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease!"

Instead, Jim does get Sebastian a ring, but he doesn't wear it often. Jim doesn't mind though, because he knows what it means and knows that Sebastian is there.

_***Basically I just feel like Jim and Sebastian are hopelessly in love but won't just say it all the time because they're wimps. But I hope you all enjoy it : )**_


	49. Chapter 49

**Couple 1**

Over the summers while Greg's daughters are visiting, the girls like to make their dad or Mycroft take them places. Their favorite place to go is the park, so this is actually where they spend most of their time. It's hot, yes, but the girls don't mind. They love running around and making Greg chase them or playing in the dirt or the monkey bars.

The first time the girls beg Greg to take them to the park is the first summer they're visiting. It's a relatively nice day outside, so they all take a trip to the park. Mycroft calls Greg on his way home from work asking if they need anything, but Greg says no and tells Mycroft to meet them at the park. So he does.

Mycroft Holmes does not go to the park often, nor has he ever gone to the park often. As a child, if he wanted to play he'd play indoors or sometimes in the family's large yard, but a park was never one place he wanted to go.

So Mycroft gets to the park and takes a while finding Greg. He's not sure where at the park they are (by the playground, duh) and wanders for quite some time. He finally finds Greg and the girls and sits on the bench nearest them. Greg spots him while he's chasing Lucy. He stops and goes to Mycroft.

"Took long enough," Greg says, bending over Mycroft and kissing his cheek. He sits next to Mycroft.

"I wasn't sure where you'd be."

"I said the park."

"Yes, but you didn't see where at the park."

Greg looks at Mycroft with a 'you're-kidding-right?' face. But of course Mycroft's not kidding, he's oblivious when it comes to _parks _and what people with children do at parks.

They talk about their day while the girls run around, and after a few minutes Lucy spots them and runs over.

"Mycroft, Mycroft!" she shouts, "Come push me on the swing!"

"The _what_?"

"You are joking," Greg says out loud.

"What is the swing?"

"Mycroft, I know you and Sherlock are all weird and sheltered, but you have got to know what a swing is."

Mycroft looks confused. Greg stands and pulls Mycroft with him. "Come on," he says, "I'm breakin' your swing virginity."

"My _what_?" Mycroft asks.

The girls laugh, even though they have no idea what Greg said means.

Lucy pulls Mycroft along and pushes him until he sits on a swing.

"What do I do now?" Mycroft asks.

"You don't do anything," Lucy says, "I'll push you."

"You'll push me? I hardly think you'll be able to—" Mycroft stops talking when little tiny Lucy pushes him forward a few inches. She pushes him slowly and he's not really picking up any sort of height or speed, so he looks bored and confused. "Is this it?" he asks.

"This is only the beginning," Greg says. He takes the swing next to Mycroft and begins pushing himself.

"How are you doing that?" Mycroft asks.

"Are you really going to make me explain the dynamics of swinging?" Greg asks.

"Yes, I must know!"

Greg sighs. "Alright, first you just move your body back and forth. And while you're doing it, you kick your legs like this," Greg kicks his legs. "See?"

"I think so," Mycroft mimics Greg's movements. Lucy moves and takes the swing opposite Mycroft. Mycroft slowly gets more air. "Am I doing it right?" he asks.

"Yes, yes!" Lucy says. She's higher than both Greg and Mycroft.

"Is that safe? Will she fall?" Mycroft asks.

"Nah, she's a pro," Greg says.

"How will she stop?"

"Well, she's a fearless little thing so she'll probably jump."

"_Jump_?" Mycroft wants to know.

"Like this!" Lucy shouts before jumping from the swing. She lands on her feet in a crouching position.

"My God," Mycroft says, "Is that safe?"

Greg shrugs. "Probably not."

"A boy in my class broke his arm jumping off the swings last year," Lucy says.

Mycroft looks at Greg like, 'you're-crazy-for-letting-your-daughter-jump-off-the-swing,'. Greg looks at Mycroft and laughs.

"It's ok, she's fine. Look at her," Greg says.

Mycroft still feels uneasy about it but if Greg says it's ok, he'll let it go.

They spend a while on the swings. Mycroft gets higher to the point of panicking and Greg has to pull the chain to stop him. Greg gets so high that he jumps, too, Mycroft's so scared he stops breathing, but when he lands perfectly safe Mycroft begins to breathe again.

They make the park trip a weekly thing and by the end of the summer, Lucy manages to get Mycroft to go down the slide. He thinks the slide is much safer.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock Holmes has never been on a swing, like his big brother. In their first year together, John learns this and actually decides to make a list titled: "30 Things Sherlock Has Never Done and Will Do Before Our Two Year Anniversary or I Will Dump Him" (he's working on the title). This list includes:

-Swinging (of course)

-Played Monopoly (Cluedo is a different story)

-Read The Chronicles of Narnia (John succeeds, Sherlock deletes it days later)

-Build a sand castle (to be continued…)

-Turn down a case from Lestrade (just one)

-Introduce John to his mother (Very sweet really)

The list is longer, of course, and Sherlock does everything on the list, and they had a lot of fun doing it. John's favorite is the swing, though, because even though it shouldn't have been funny, it was.

It all started one afternoon while John and Sherlock were babysitting Lucy and Lindsay (Greg's daughters). They agree every once in a while if Greg and Mycroft have to go to work or John offers if he thinks Greg and Mycroft need alone time (he'd hope Greg would do the same for him and Sherlock). It's a week after Mycroft's first swinging experience and the girls find that very, very funny still.

"Can you believe it, John? Mycroft had never been on a swing!" Lindsay says.

"That is funny," John says.

"So?" Sherlock asks.

"So?" John repeats.

"I don't see what's funny."

"It's funny that Mycroft is…how old?...and hadn't been on a swing."

"Yes, and?"

John, Lucy, and Lindsay exchange looks.

"Don't tell me," John says, "You've never been on a swing, either?"

"No, boring."

"Swinging is an essential part of childhood," John says.

"Not my childhood."

"Every child has got to swing."

"They haven't 'got' to. I never did, Mycroft never did."

"How is it that you've never been on a swing?"

Sherlock sighs. "I didn't go to school until I was about twelve, John. And at that point swings were a bit childish. I never went to the park or anything of that sort."

"Boy," John says, "You two are weird."

"Thanks, John," Sherlock says before disappearing into their room.

John looks at the girls then follows Sherlock. "Hey," he says as he opens their room door, "I didn't mean any harm."

"Sometimes words are harmful."

"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry," John hugs Sherlock. Sherlock hugs back. "You're not weird. You're just…inexperienced."

"And Mycroft?"

"He's weird," John says. They both laugh. "Hey, I know!" John says, letting go of Sherlock. "I'm adding this to the list."

Sherlock groans. "That's a stupid list, John."

"It's a good list and a list that will be completed unless you want me to leave you."

Sherlock pouts. "That's unfair."

"I mean it. You missed out on a lot in life, I just want to help you out."

Sherlock continues pouting.

"Fine, fine!" John says. "I won't leave you."

Sherlock's eyes brighten. "So I don't have to do this list?"

"Oh no, you're doing the list."

They plan a trip to the park, just the two of them. They go a week after they have the girls, and John quickly changes the title of the list to, "30 Things Sherlock Has Never Done and Will Do Before Our Two Year Anniversary or I Will Threaten To Dump Him Until He Cries" (still working on the title).

So they go to the park straight to the swings they've passed countless numbers of times. John takes a seat then motions for Sherlock to sit.

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock says, sitting and holding the chains.

"You want me to push you?"

Sherlock glares.

"Alright, seven-year-old, no need to glare," John says. He begins to swing.

Sherlock watches for almost ten minutes before he starts. He starts very slowly. John wants to stop and watch but he knows Sherlock will stop if John even looks at him. He continues and soon Sherlock is higher than John.

"John, look at me!" Sherlock shouts. John laughs so hard he almost falls off his swing. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry, that was just so funny, Sherlock!" John laughs more. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Actually, I am!"

Half an hour later they're at the hospital.

"I am never doing that again, John," Sherlock coldly says.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," John holds back a chuckle, "I didn't know you were going to fall off, hit your head, and need stitches."

"Those things are deadly, John."

"That's why you hold the chains!" John does chuckle. "I'm sorry," he leans over and kisses Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock shifts and takes hold of the back of his head with his other hand. "I want all of those things taken out of London."

"To be honest, love, I think you're the first person to ever need stitches after swings."

"He's not the first person," Sarah says as she walks into the room to apply Sherlock's stitches. "But he is the first grown man."

At this John laughs and Sherlock glares at both of them. It's not like he's that happy to see Sarah anyway, but now her and John have something to laugh with each other over. Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Come on, you big baby. Lay your head down," John says.

Sherlock never, ever, ever sets foot near another swing.

**Couple 3**

It ends and begins on a swing. It might be exactly what you're thinking, but it might not.

It's a long time into their relationship, it's been years since either has actually thought, 'Hey we've been together - long.' It's been years since they exchanged ring/tag and slower and slower over time has Sebastian stopped wearing his.

And then he fucks up. They get in a fight, which is rare. They fight about everything. They'd been fighting for a while, just little things here and there, and finally the little ant holes turn into mountains and they are yelling and screaming and a few shouts away from punches.

No punches are thrown, though, because Sebastian leaves. Jim doesn't go after him because Jim knows time is what they need; time to cool, time to think.

Sebastian goes to bar and that's where he fucks up. First, he has a scotch. As a recovering alcoholic, scotch is not a great drink to choose, but he drinks it anyway. Then he orders another, then another. At five he stops counting, but he keeps drinking.

Then there's a girl. She's a pretty girl. Young, petite. Sebastian likes her. It's been a very, very long time since he's had to seduce anyone and even more time since it's been a female, but he succeeds and they go to her house.

And then he fucks up again because he sleeps with her. The stupid idiot sleeps with her while Jim is at home worrying about where his boyfriend is. After a while (it's 2 AM) Jim goes to bed, and by then Sebastian's trying to sneak out of the girl's house. He tells her he's got an early day and escapes. He checks into a hotel so he doesn't go home smelling like scotch and someone else.

He goes home the next day and feels awful. He hasn't had a hangover in years, and on top of that he has the burning reminder that he slept with someone else. His stomach aches as he showers and waits for Jim. He doesn't know if he should tell Jim, but he figures he'd better because the consequences of not telling Jim and Jim figuring it out (which he would) will be worse.

Jim gets home and Sebastian greets him at the door. With a relieved breath, Jim hugs him tight and welcomes him home. Sebastian feels like a hole is burning through his heart. He never thought he'd feel this bad after cheating on Jim, but of course he himself never thought he'd cheat on Jim.

They sit on the couch in silence, watching TV, and after an hour of silence, Sebastian just kind of blurts it out.

"I slept with someone else," he says. It's so low Jim can almost not hear it. _Almost._

"What?" Jim asks.

"I said I slept with someone else. A girl."

"When?"

"Last night."

Jim can't physically bring himself to do anything. He never thought it'd hurt this bad after being cheated on, but of course he never thought Sebastian would cheat on him.

He sits still for a really long time, or maybe it just feels like a long time because of the slow beating of his heart breaking. Dazed, he stands and goes to their room. He closes the door behind him.

Around 3 AM (15 hours later) Sebastian goes to bed. Jim's been in their room the whole time and doesn't say anything when Sebastian enters, but Sebastian knows he's awake. They don't speak. Sebastian slips into bed and doesn't touch Jim, nor does Jim touch him. They just lay in empty, dark silence.

The next day they get an invitation to Sienna's wedding. Jim finds it terribly unfair that people are going on with their lives when he feels like his is slowly ending.

The invitation is addressed to both Jim and Sebastian, and it's one month away. It's very early in the breaking, but Sebastian wonders if Jim will even go. He asks.

"I suppose I'd better," Jim says. "Sienna is expecting me."

This means nothing to Sebastian. They could break up tomorrow and he knows Jim will still show up. He has no hope.

The next month goes by painfully slowly. They don't break up, but they don't communicate anymore. They'll speak only if necessary and don't do anything with each other anymore. About a week after the incident, Jim stops wearing Sebastian's tags. About two weeks after, in the middle of the night, Jim silently gets out of bed and leaves the room. He doesn't come back and the next morning, Sebastian finds him on the pullout couch. He sleeps there every night after.

The day before the wedding, Sebastian goes to the inn where Sienna's wedding is. He has to be there for the rehearsal and the dinner the night before. Jim tells him to go and he'll be up the day of the wedding, and reluctantly, Sebastian goes. He wants to go up the same time as Jim to make sure Jim goes.

Before Sebastian sees Sienna, he slips his ring on. He hasn't worn it since the night he slept with the girl, he hasn't even looked at it. He just carries it in his pocket and lets it burn a hole straight to his skin.

Sienna asks where Jim is and Sebastian tells her he had to stay until tomorrow for work. It's not really a lie, even though it is (Jim did have a meeting). He doesn't tell her they've been on the verge of breaking up for a month; he doesn't tell her he fucked up.

Jim arrives the next day just minutes before the wedding. He walks in and acts like nothing is wrong when he greets Sienna; he even greets Sebastian so that it doesn't look weird. Jim quickly kisses him before taking his seat.

Sebastian stands at the altar behind Sienna before he's allowed to sit with the crowd. He sits in the front row by himself while Jim sits three rows behind. Sebastian feels out of place and separated from Jim, but he thinks maybe that's what he deserves: to be separated from Jim.

After the ceremony while Sebastian is congratulating Sienna and her new husband, he sees Jim slip out of the small chapel. He excuses himself and follows.

A few yards away from the inn is a small park overlooking the mountains. He sees Jim looking at them, lightly pushing himself back and forth on the swing. Sebastian sits next to him without saying a word. They sit in silence, hearing the people at the inn laughing and dancing to the music playing. Sebastian's stomach aches.

"Is this it, then?" Sebastian asks. The swing beneath him feels like it's moving a thousand miles per hour, but it's barely moving. He hurts, he feels like he's about to fall off the swing. He deserves it, he feels.

"Yes, my dear," Jim breathes, "I do believe it is."

Sebastian looks down and kicks dirt with his shoe. Usually Jim would tell him not to scuff up his nice shoes like that, but he remains silent.

"I want to keep trying," Sebastian says.

"I don't," Jim quickly replies. He continues looking at the mountains.

Sebastian hangs his head. "Jim, can we just—"

"I can't stand to be in the same room with you," Jim says, "You hurt me, you actually hurt _me_."

"Jim, I'm sorry, I—"

"I want to kill you, Sebastian. I honestly want to stab you in the chest to make you feel what I feel, but I can't even bring myself to yell at you."

"Jim, please—"

"I'm not trying. I'm leaving now. If you want your job, you can have it."

Sebastian thinks for a few minutes. He can't decide if he wants the job still, because he'll see Jim without being with Jim. It'd kill him, and that's what he knows he deserves, but Jim deserves to never seen him again. "No," he says, "Find someone else."

Jim sighs, "There's nobody better."

"Nobody else hurt you, I don't deserve…anything you give me."

Jim stands and turns to walk away, but first he stops and takes Sebastian's tags out of his shirt. He motions to take them off, but Sebastian stops him and tells him to keep them.

"Are you sure?" Jim asks.

"Yes. They're yours."

Jim nods and leaves.

Two hours later, Sebastian finally goes back to his room and finds the tags lying on his pillow. He takes them tightly in his hand and lays down. _It's really over, _he thinks.

Sienna keeps in touch with Jim. They exchange a few texts here and there, but other than Sienna's updates, Sebastian doesn't hear from Jim again. Months go by and Sebastian feels incomplete. He goes about his days as if there's a black cloud above him, nothing is good and nothing is right anymore. Everything feels dark and sad. As the days go by he feels more and more lost.

Around Christmas six months later, Sienna invites Jim back to the inn for her and her new husband's Christmas party. Jim declines the invite at first, but with many persuading words, Jim agrees. Sienna doesn't tell Sebastian because she doesn't really think Jim will show up and she doesn't want to get Sebastian's hopes up.

Jim arrives at the party an hour after Sebastian. Sebastian doesn't see him at first, so Jim greets Sienna and gets himself a drink. Finally Sebastian spots him and stops breathing. He just looks at Jim and feels joy. The cloud disappears. He takes a breath and feels like it's the first breath he's taken in months. He doesn't feel like he's drowning anymore.

He knows Jim isn't there for him so he doesn't approach Jim. He waits to see if Jim will even speak to him. Sienna's stepson, Logan, greets Jim by saying 'Uncle Jim!'. He's called Jim and Sebastian his uncles since well before Sienna's wedding, so it's not strange that it's happening, but it's strange for Sebastian to hear.

Finally, after Jim's been there for an hour, he approaches Sebastian. Sebastian lightly smiles and buys Jim a drink.

"I'll have what you're having," Jim says. Sebastian hands him the glass from the bartender and Jim takes a sip, then makes a face. "Ugh, what is this?"

"Coke."

"What's in it?"

"Nothing. Coke."

"Why does it taste so bad?"

Sebastian laughs. "You don't drink soda."

"Geez, I forgot how horrible it is."

They stand in silence for a while. Finally Sebastian asks, "So how've you been?"

"Fine. You?"

"Awful."

Jim laughs. "That was too easy. You're supposed to say, 'Fine, good, you know,' and I'm supposed to ask, 'Really?', and then you say no."

"I thought I'd cut to the chase."

"Simple enough."

"How's work been?" Sebastian asks.

"It's been great. I got someone else to fill your position and it's carried on as usual."

"How many positions have they filled?"

"Don't be like that, Sebastian," Jim says. "_She _is a great shooter."

"She?"

"Women can point and shoot too, idiot."

"Yeah, I just figured—"

"I'd want a man? Not after you."

"So you're not seeing anyone?"

Jim smiles and sighs. "This is just too easy. You're not getting any more out of me this easily."

"I'd better get you a real drink, then," Sebastian says.

After talking for twenty more minutes, Sebastian excuses himself to the restroom and when he comes back Jim's gone. He asks everyone if they've seen him and they say no. He leaves the party and supposes he'll go out to the swing, and once he's in sight of it he sees Jim sitting on it. The moon is up over the mountains and the whole scene is very majestic. Sebastian quietly stands behind Jim and begins to push.

"You scared me," Jim says.

"I'm sorry."

"That's ok. I was stuck in a trance watching the mountains."

"They are beautiful," Sebastian says. He's still pushing Jim. They go quiet.

After the silence, Jim asks, "Are you really pushing me on a swing? Is that what you're doing for me right now?"

"I would do anything for you," Sebastian says without missing a beat.

"Would you come back to work?"

"Yes."

Jim is quiet. Sebastian can hear him thinking but he's not sure what about. Sebastian hopes and prays Jim will ask him to be with him again, but Sebastian knows he doesn't deserve it.

"Would you come back to me?" Jim asks.

Though Sebastian isn't expecting it, he instantly says yes anyway. "Wait, what?" he asks.

"I'm ready to try again. I was hurt and angry, but now—"

"You're not angry anymore?"

"Oh god no, I'm still angry. Wouldn't you be? I think I have the right to be angry for a very long time."

"Yes, I agree. Which is why I'm surprised."

"I'm still angry, it's just now I'm ready to move past it."

Sebastian is still pushing Jim. They haven't looked at each other. Sebastian's hands rest on Jim's shoulders while Jim keeps moving back and forth slightly. When he comes to a halt, he looks up. Sebastian looks down.

"Would you love me forever?" Jim asks.

"Yes," Sebastian says, leaning over Jim and closer to his face.

"Would you kiss me now?"

"Yes," Sebastian says, moving closer still.

Finally Jim reaches up and their lips meet. It's not the most comfortable thing, both their necks craning to meet the other. But it's sweet. And romantic.

After they kiss, they go back to Sebastian's room. As they're about to lay in bed, Jim says, "I should probably mention that I moved."

They slide into bed and face each other. Sebastian says, "I should probably mention that I got a dog."

"I should probably fire my new employee," Jim says.

"I should probably mention that I haven't shot a gun in six months."

"Maybe I shouldn't fire her then," Jim says before Sebastian attacks him and kisses him.

Sebastian moves into Jim's new flat right away. Everything continues stronger and different than before in that they are trying harder than before. They don't want to lose each other for a third time. Sebastian does anything Jim wants and acts as perfect boyfriend and employee, because he really doesn't want to fuck it up again.

**_*I honestly did not expect MorMor to be five freakin' pages of angst. But I'm feeling kind of blue lately and needed to make my characters hurt. I do that sometimes. Once I wrote a Jonhlock fic that's like fifty pages long of them breaking up and getting back together. Maybe I'll post it one day. Anyway, I'm sorry if MorMor hurts but they love each other and sometimes I just think they need time apart. Thank you _TheFalling _who said Jim would push Seb on a swing, after a fight, but sometimes I think Seb is the bigger man so he'd push Jim. If that makes sense. _**

_***SO! The next update will be the big 5-0! I never thought I'd rub together ten chapters and certainly never thought this fic would have over 200 reviews. I'm so so so thankful for each and every one and each of my readers. I want 50 to be something BIG so people pleeeeeease give me ideas. Something fun. Have I done birthdays? Holidays…anniversaries? Someone just give me something! I love you all. Good day : ) **_


	50. Chapter 50

**Couple 1**

Many men claim they 'don't do' anniversaries. Many claim they don't do certain types of anniversaries. Many forget about important dates and that's the end of the excuses and the beginning of a long fight.

Greg is none of these men. Not only does he remember anniversaries, but he buys gifts. He makes dinner. He does anything to show he cares.

Especially for Mycroft and especially for their one year.

Because not only has Mycroft been in Greg's romantic life for a year, but Mycroft has changed Greg and made him a better man. He's made him open up, stand up, and he's made Greg love more than he ever has (except for his daughters). That's something Greg enjoys about being with Mycroft; that he loves _more._

Mycroft will claim until the day he dies that he doesn't do anniversaries. This is for one specific reason: he's never needed to. Never has he ever been with anyone long enough to have a one year celebration, nor has he ever wanted to. Mycroft can't remember ever dating anyone that he's thought, 'Yes I'd like to see you in a year,' except for Greg. Because Greg has, in one year, made Mycroft love. _Period._

Their one year comes quickly around the corner. It seems like the quickest year of Greg's life and he thinks it's because he's anxious for _more._ Not once in the last year has he gone to bed and dreaded having to wake up in the morning. Not once has he not wanted to face reality, because his reality is so sweet that he wants more of it.

So he wants to make the celebration grand. He wants to make the celebration joyous. He wants there to be a celebration. Period.

"Let's go to Spain," Greg says one morning while brushing his teeth. Mycroft's in the shower and even over the shower running, they can hear that it's raining outside.

"What for?"

"For our anniversary."

Mycroft doesn't reply for a few minutes. He thinks that one over. Because really. If you've never been with anyone long enough for there to even _be _an anniversary, wouldn't you kind of be a little tiny bit freaked out? Well, you may not. But Mycroft is.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Anniversary. You know, celebrating our first year as a couple."

"I wasn't sure…" Mycroft stops.

For long minutes, Mycroft thinks over what the most efficient plan would be. He could A) Say he doesn't want to do anniversary and break Greg's heart. B) Think of a clever reason as to why he doesn't want to do anniversary, like he doesn't want to jinx it or something. C) Suck it up and celebrate because damn Mycroft you love this man and all he's asking for is one day to freakin' recognize that he's been with you for a year.

Mycroft takes option C.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted to do. I could make reservations or…we _could _go to Spain."

"Nah, I was only joking 'bout the Spain bit. How's dinner at that place you like? You know the one—"

"Oh, yes. I'll call later."

Greg smiles as he exits the bathroom because this is love: knowing what the other is going to say without needing to say it. Mycroft smiles because this is love: making Greg smile.

The next day Mycroft is informed that he needs to get Greg an anniversary gift. Well, his secretary makes it clear that he doesn't _need _to, but sometimes gifts are a nice gesture. Mycroft asks her what he should get and she asks what Greg likes or if there's something he wants.

"I know!" Mycroft exclaims. "I'll get him a new watch. He broke his last week."

"Is a watch something he _needs _or something he _wants_?"

"I think it's something he'd at least enjoy. And if he doesn't like it, I'll buy him something else."

"You can't buy love, Mr. Holmes."

"Then why the hell am I getting him a gift anyway? I'm getting him a watch. That's that."

So Mycroft goes out and personally picks out Greg's watch. Usually, when he needs to get a gift, he sends someone out to pick it out a purchase it. For Sherlock's twenty-first birthday, he bought his baby brother a car without even knowing what kind it was until the bill came.

All day at work, Greg wonders what he should get Mycroft. The elder Holmes has everything he wants or needs, and Greg can't think of anything. Sally gives him suggestions but they're things Mycroft has or wouldn't like. Finally his work day ends and he heads home to get ready for his date.

Greg meets Mycroft at the restaurant at 7:30, giftless. He sulks and sits across from Mycroft.

"Greg? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Bad day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

They eat their meal in almost absolute silence, and when they're finished, Mycroft takes out the box of Greg's watch.

Greg sighs.

"What is it?" Mycroft asks.

"I'll be honest, ok? Because I love you and I like to be honest with you."

Mycroft's stomach drops. "What is it?"

"I didn't get you a gift."

Mycroft stares wide eyed at Greg. He was expecting the worst and all he got was a simple little thing. "Is that it?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Mycroft, I tried but I couldn't find anything—"

"Greg, stop. It's alright, I promise. There's nothing I could possibly want that you haven't already given me."

"What do you mean? I don't buy you many gifts."

"You can't buy love, Greg. You have given that to me for free. You gave me a heart."

Mycroft reaches across the table and takes hold of Greg's hand. He hands Greg the watch and Greg gleefully opens it, thanks him, but casts it aside because that wasn't the point of the evening; the point is that they're together and they have been for one whole year.

**Couple 2**

So the list. Remember the list? The one John said Sherlock has to complete before their two year or he'll dump him (not really)? That list. Well these two boys have been together 729 days and Sherlock's got one more task to complete and John will not threaten to dump him on day 731, the day after their two year anniversary.

They go to bed the night of day 729 and John's prepared to call forfeit on account of the last task. Greg hasn't called with a case in seventeen days and that's the last task: to turn down a case from Lestrade. Sherlock thinks he's home free and going to win until he's woken up on morning 730 of being tangled up in John's grasp to his phone ringing in the kitchen. He jumps from the bed because nobody calls this early unless there's a dead body or a missing person. John remains asleep but somewhere deep down he can hear.

"Sherlock," John hears Sherlock answer the phone. He doesn't hear the caller, of course, but he hears Sherlock pacing the hallway outside their bedroom door. "Where?" he hears Sherlock say. He knows now that it's a case and he wonders if he should remind Sherlock of the bet or let Sherlock lose. Then he remembers what day it is and thinks, _Oh hell no is he taking a case today._

"Sherlock!" John calls, his face still pressed down into his pillow.

Sherlock pauses his conversation with (John's assuming) Lestrade and enters their room. "Yes, John?"

"Do you realize what day it is?"

"It's November 16th."

"Yes but do you realize what _day _it is?"

Sherlock is silent and John can practically hear the gears clicking. "It's our two year anniversary."

"Right you are, my beautiful love. Now, do you have something to say to Greg or do I have something to say to you?"

Sherlock thinks. And thinks. And weighs his options. And thinks. Finally he holds the phone back to his ear and says, "Sorry, I can't today Lestrade. Try again tomorrow," and hangs up.

John smiles into the pillow as Sherlock sinks back in to the bed. He turns his head to look at Sherlock.

"How do you feel?" John asks.

"Useless."

John smiles and pulls Sherlock to him. "I could change that," he says, kissing Sherlock's cheek and ear.

They don't leave the bed all day. Sherlock begins to forget about the case, which is fortunate, but there's still that lingering curiosity; that feeling that he could be using his brain for the case and not to think of the maximum way to ensure John's pleasure at the moment. Although everything is fine and good and _wow _in bed, Sherlock can't help but think about what's going on out there.

They leave the flat to go to an early dinner. John thinks maybe he can get away with an early dinner, maybe a movie, maybe some late night rooftop star gazing, maybe a little bit of kissing or more, and that'll be all. Basically, he wants to use today to consume Sherlock, to make him see and feel and appreciate.

Unfortunately, John can tell that Sherlock is distant. He can tell that there's that little spark of Sherlock that's missing. He doesn't like that. Sure, Sherlock seems to be enjoying himself and that's good, but there's still that little piece that's showing John that Sherlock did something today that he does not ever do, and that's that he turned down a case. Well, he turned down a case for Greg. He's done it to Mycroft loads of times. Never to Greg.

After dinner they get home and instead of star gazing, John gets Sherlock into bed. Sherlock is eager to enjoy the last of the evening and John wants to give that to him.

After the sex, John excuses himself from the room. He goes into the living room and Sherlock can't hear anything John's doing, but when he comes back, John's got something behind his back.

"What have you got there?" Sherlock asks.

"A gift for you."

"Oh, John, I didn't get you a gift, I—"

"It's ok, Sherlock," John kneels on the bed with the gift still behind his back, "I didn't expect anything. Besides this is just a quick thing I had dropped off."

Sherlock is curious now. He waits and finally John hands him a beige folder with a thick stack of papers inside.

"What's this?"

"It's the case Greg called about. He dropped it off while we were out."

Sherlock quickly opens it and smiles. It's the biggest smile John's seen him have all day. "John," Sherlock says. That's all he says and John knows he means it.

"Happy Anniversary, Sherlock."

Sherlock looks up at John and nearly tackles him to the bed. He covers John's face and neck with kisses and repeats, "Thank you, thank you," over and over.

That night Sherlock starts on the case and it's finished by 5 AM. He goes back to bed to John and he is thankful for such a great anniversary.

**Couple 3**

It's difficult to think of how to start this for Sebastian and Jim. We can start by remembering how Jim wasn't nice to Sebastian at first, and for that first year they weren't in a relationship and didn't have feelings. They just kind of took and had and that was that. Not a relationship.

Then they got in that fight and Sebastian left. They were apart for a long while and they met in the hotel Sebastian was staying, remember? Jim had that other date and Sebastian _so was _jealous.

Then one time led to another and they were reacquainted as more than just…taking and having. They became one and confessed they love (well, not quite when they first got together, but they confessed their feelings because one day Sebastian said, 'What do you want me to be?' and Jim said, 'I've never had a real boyfriend before.' And Sebastian said, 'Hey neither have I.' and so they're each other's firsts for many things, this just one). So they became official and it's not like either remembered the date, except for one reason.

The day these two became official, they more or less promised each other, well, everything. Sebastian needs to be a whole, so he made Jim promise (without actually promising) to be with him from now until they really really can't stand one another. Sebastian needs stability and he wanted to be sure Jim would be stable, so he made Jim become stable.

The same day Jim and Sebastian got together, Sebastian went to the bank to open up an account. Before, he'd made Jim pay him in cash or every once in a while checks, but he never had a bank account. So he figured that if he and Jim were going to be together a while, the bank account was sort of a way to ensure that. It made a lot of sense for them, of course. Well, for Sebastian. So he went to the bank.

After the bank they celebrated with drinking and making love. Of course nobody calls it that, especially them, but that's what it was. It was 'I'm-Glad-We're-Together' sex, 'Never-Leave-Me-Again' sex, 'I-Really-Do-Love-You-But-Don't-Tell-Anyone' sex.

The year continued like normal, well normal for them. They did go on dates, many dates. They actually went on normal dates, like dinner and movie. They were fairly normal apart from their occupations.

So now it's a year later and nobody realizes it. Nobody that's them, of course. The bank notices. That's why they call Sebastian to offer him a new kind of banking, one that becomes available after one year with the bank.

Sebastian doesn't answer calls, so he lets it go to voicemail. He checks the voicemail two hours after because he was busy.

"Good afternoon, Mister Moran," the voice says, "This is Cindy at City Bank. I am calling to with a special offer for one-year a customer's one year anniversary. If you would like more information, call, email, or visit the bank at your convenience. Thank you and have a pleasant evening."

By now it's too late to call back, so Sebastian puts his phone away and sits on the couch thinking. He can't help feel as though he's missing something, something important.

Jim comes home an hour later with dinner. Jim was out all day so he brought dinner for them to have a late dinner but an early to bed. It's almost 9 PM, and Sebastian still feels as though he's missing or forgetting something.

He tells Jim about the bank call and says he'll probably go in tomorrow to check it out. He's got to go to the bank anyway now that Jim pays him regularly with checks.

"A year offer? You don't say," Jim says.

"Yeah, I'd never heard of it. Must be a new thing."

"Probably," Sebastian says and continues eating.

Finally, while they're getting ready for bed, Sebastian realizes. "OH!" he shouts as Jim shuts his lamp off.

Jim jumps because Sebastian startles him. "What?"

"I've got it! I finally realized what I've been forgetting all day!"

"Is it urgent? Because I'm quite tired."

"No, it doesn't have to be."

"Mmmm," Jim presses against Sebastian's side. "What is it, then?"

Sebastian takes a deep breath. He breathes out, "We've been together for one year."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, one year exactly."

"That's nice," Jim says, pressing closer to Sebastian.

"Yeah. It is nice," Sebastian says. He lifts his arm so Jim can lie on his chest. He presses his hand to Jim's ribs, he gently rubs the bones through soft skin.

"Is it?"

"Of course."

"Good."

They're silent for a while and Sebastian thinks Jim is asleep, but he's not. Finally he speaks. "Are you happy, Seb?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Because I like you," Sebastian softly says. "And I like being with you."

"Good. I'm happy to, because without you I'd have to shoot people myself."

Sebastian laughs. "Is that all you keep me around for?"

Jim shrugs. "It's lasted this long, hasn't it?"

They're quiet again. He knows Jim's fallen asleep because he feels warmer and heavier in his arms. He asks anyway, "How much longer do you think I'll be around?"

He doesn't expect a reply so he closes his eyes to sleep, but then he hears Jim whisper, "Forever, maybe."

He smiles and wraps an arm tighter around Jim's torso. They sleep and the next day have anniversary festivities. They decide that since they aren't the most traditional couple, they'll make their own traditions like year and a day anniversaries and no gifts because they're both very, very difficult to shop for.

_***Yay! 50! This would have been up a few days ago but my internet was out, so here it is now. Number 50 about anniversaries. And as a 50 bonus, I'm putting up two chapters right now because without internet I wrote two chapters. Read both. Review. Always review. That's what's kept me going this whole time, knowing people actually enjoy this crap I spill out every once in a while. So thank you for letting me know because without the reviews I may have quit after chapter 7. : )**_

_***(Also just so everyone knows I did in fact make up the bank! Because I'm a dumb American and I don't know what bank titles are in London or anything at all of that sort. So I'm sorry but thank you for being understanding.)**_


	51. Chapter 51

**Couple 1**

In his fifteen or so years as a police officer, Greg Lestrade has encountered his fair share of fights. As a rookie, he fought a drug dealer that gave him a broken nose (you should have seen the other guy); in his fifth year, he was hit over the head with a frying pan by the wife of the criminal he was arresting; in his tenth year, he busted his knee being kicked by a victim (she was scared, ok?); and this, the fifteenth year, is the time he walked away with a nice shiny black eye. This is also the first year he's been injured at work while living with Mycroft.

"It isn't nearly as bad as it looks," Greg says as he enters the flat.

Mycroft's not even looking at him. "What is—" Mycroft cuts himself off as he turns around to see Greg's nice shiner. "Oh my gosh," he says.

"That's why I said—"

"What happened?"

"I got in a fight. At work."

"With _who_? Dear god, please don't tell me—"

"No, no, Sherlock did not hit me," Greg smiles, "I was on a case. I was hit by a criminal."

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"You should see the other guy."

"What does that mean?" Mycroft asks, sitting next to Greg on the couch.

"You've never heard that expression?" Mycroft shakes his head, no. "It just means you should see what I did to him."

"Did you beat him up?"

Greg frowns, "No. They took him away before I could. And you've ruined the idea, so thank you."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Mycroft," Greg says while resting his head on the back on the couch, "It's fine. I'm joking. Stop looking worried like that, it's just a black eye."

"It's not, actually. You need to press charges, you need to—"

"Mycroft, again it is fine."

"Why are you being so nonchalant about this? You were assaulted—"

"You want to know why it's not a big deal? Because look at me, Mycroft. Look at me and tell me I don't look like a bad arse."

"That's not the point, Greg. The point is—"

Greg's head is against the back of the couch and he's looking up at the ceiling. Well, not really, because his eyes are closed. He smiles while still looking at the ceiling. "You don't think it's sexy, Mycroft?"

"What? That's absurd—"

"Really? I don't look a bit heroic? A bit stoic? A bit…what's another word that rhymes? Mosaic. No, no that doesn't work."

"Greg?" Mycroft asks.

Greg's head roles to the side and he looks at Mycroft through one good eye and one swollen. He's still smiling. "Yes?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Are _you _drunk?" Greg asks with a very serious face.

"Oh god," Mycroft murmurs while resting his head in his hand.

Greg laughs, "I'm not drunk."

Mycroft looks up and at Greg, "Well, that's a relief—"

"High, maybe…"

"Oh god."

"I'm not sure because first there was the pills Sally gave me then there was the drink Dimmock bought me, and—"

"You had a pill then a drink? Greg that's not—"

"Nooooooooo," Greg says. "That's ridiculous, I didn't. Did _you?_"

"What? Of course not, Greg, I—"

"I don't know your life, Mycroft."

"Now you're just being ridiculous on purpose."

"I think _you _are."

"I'm going to get you some ice. This is a childish game."

"_You _are a childish game," Greg says (mostly to himself) as Mycroft exits the living room.

When Mycroft returns, Greg is laying on his side on the couch. Mycroft sits on the opposite end and waits.

Finally, Greg says, "Don't you think it's sexy, Mycroft?"

"What is?"

"M-eye," Greg says. It sounds like one word.

"That's ridiculous—"

Greg is quickly up and in Mycroft's face. He straddles Mycroft's legs and presses his front to Mycroft's. "Just a little bit?" he asks.

"Well, maybe—"

"I think a black eye'd be sexy on you. You'd look like a bad arse like me."

"I doubt that, really—"

"With your black eye and your…" Greg trails off as he leans down and kisses Mycroft's neck. He continues, "Your umbrella."

"What?" Mycroft asks.

"Mmmmm," Greg sounds. He rests his head on Mycroft's shoulder, nose pressing against Mycroft's cheek and black eye up in the air. He doesn't move for a minute and Mycroft hears his breathing get deeper.

"Greg?" he asks, shaking his shoulder. Greg's head bobs up and down. "Greg, did you fall asleep?"

He doesn't get a reply, because the lovely bad-arse D.I did fall asleep on Mycroft's shoulder while still straddling his hips. Mycroft sighs and rests the ice pack on Greg's eye, then stays very still while Greg dozes.

Somewhere in the night Mycroft manages to move Greg from the couch to bed. The next morning, Greg wakes up with a bit of a headache (he never handles alcohol well) and a throbbing eye pain. It's more swollen than before and he can barely open his eye. And sadly the poor sober D.I. thinks himself less of a bad arse when his eye won't open and he realizes he was hit by a woman.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock Holmes has also been in his fair share of fights. Growing up he was in at least seven (not so much fights as bigger boys beating him up just because he was smaller) before Mycroft paid for his martial art training. After that he held his own in fights. He was very good at fighting; he was small, limber, but he covered a lot of ground. When he was a junkie, Sherlock fought many dealers that just didn't like him. And since he's worked as a Consulting Detective, he's fought many, many suspects. Heck, just since John's showed up he's fought an Asian thief in an apartment that was trained to fight, more at that crazy circus they went to, The Gollum who was twice his size, The Woman and the riding crop, the American that he threw out a window, the assassins he sword fought on behalf of The Woman, and he's even been hit in the face by John himself. So over the years, Sherlock's learned how to take and give a beating.

Not many times has he actually had to go to the hospital or something for getting in a fight. He's sent people to the hospital plenty of times but he himself being injured to that point is rare. Which is why he's so upset when he needs stitches for his split lip he received from the foot of a kidnapper.

"I really don't think—"

"Shut up, Sherlock. You're getting stitches and that's final."

"But John, I—"

"No 'buts', Sherlock. Stitches."

Sherlock sulks and looks out the window of the cab they're in. He presses the towel a bit firmer to his lip. John looks at him and rolls his eyes.

"Fine, you big baby. I'll put them in myself at home, alright?"

Sherlock nods.

At home, John gets his supplies ready while Sherlock paces and pouts. When John's ready, Sherlock sits quietly but scowly on the toilet.

"Stop frowning," John says.

"How am I supposed to hold my mouth then?"

"Any way, just don't frown."

Sherlock smiles, making his lip split just a tiny bit more.

"Damnit, Sherlock," John says. "That's not what I meant."

John wipes the blood away one last time and rubs numbing cream on the area. He gets the tweezers in hand and gets to work.

Now, four stitches along the bottom lip should take, what? Not even ten minutes. I'm no expert, but John Watson is and that means it should take practically no time at all to get _four _stitches in. But since Sherlock Holmes is the single most difficult person in all of the world, it takes Doctor Watson forty-five minutes to administer _four _stitches. John's trying his hardest to be sympathetic and patient, but damn, Sherlock.

"The least you could do is sit still."

"It hurts."

"Of course it hurts, I'm sewing your face back together."

"Make it not hurt."

"What do you want me to do?"

Sherlock glances up at John. "Kiss it."

"What?"

"Kiss it better."

"You know, kissing it won't put it back together."

"Kissing it will make me feel better. I might be able to sit still longer if I have a kiss to hold me over."

"You're a pain, you know that?"

"Yes, I've been told."

John sighs and gives Sherlock a tiny smile. He leans in and kisses Sherlock. It's a tiny, tiny, tiny, quick peck to the other half of his lips; the half without stitches.

"What the hell was that?" Sherlock asks as John sets back to work.

"A kiss."

"That most definitely was not a kiss, John Watson."

"Yeah? Well I don't usually kiss my patients and right now you are my patient who is testing my patience."

"You kissed that little girl's skinned knee at the park last week."

"That's because she was four years old and I felt sorry for her."

"You don't feel sorry for me?"

"I'm trying very hard to fix your lip and I'm worrying about leaving a scar. Now, I'm good at my job, or at least usually I am, but right now I'm under pressure. I don't have time to feel sorry for you. Just let me get back to work and I'll get back to pampering you like I have to when I feel sorry for you."

Sherlock's eyes move away from John and he sits still and quiet as John finishes. When he's done, John dabs scar cream on Sherlock's stitches and lets Sherlock stand to look in the mirror.

"Oh," Sherlock says, "I look awful."

"Really?" John stands behind Sherlock and wraps both of his arms around Sherlock's waist. "I think they look great."

"Great? They're stitches."

"Yeah, and they make your lips red and swollen. I like your lips anyway, but a bit of swelling never hurt anyone." John runs both hands over Sherlock's stomach. He pulls Sherlock's shirt from his pants and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

"I look awful. I better not have a scar," Sherlock finally notices John undressing him. He squirms as one of John's hands disappears into the front of his pants. "What are you doing?"

John pulls Sherlock's shirt off with his free hand. "Pampering you," he says.

The next day, Sherlock whines about his lip all day. 'It hurts,' or 'The stitches,' or 'Scar,' is all John hears all day. He applies and reapplies scar cream to Sherlock's lip so often he wants to give Sherlock a black eye to go with his split lip for being so damn annoying. But he doesn't because he hopes that if he was hurt, Sherlock would do the same.

Sherlock doesn't leave the flat until the stitches are out and he's sure there's no scar. He thinks he looks ridiculous no matter how many times John tells him he looks fine. Sherlock's just embarrassed because he actually needed stitches. John thinks it has something to do with feeling flawed, like he can be beaten. Like Achilles and his heel. But Sherlock assures John that that is not it, that his stitches just look ridiculous. But John doesn't hear it. He tells Sherlock over and over that the stitches are sexy and scars are hot.

"Scars are not 'hot', John."

John quickly removes his pajama shirt. He points at the scar on his shoulder and asks, "No?"

"Well that's—"

"Is mine ugly, Sherlock? Is my scar bad to look at?"

Sherlock is up and out of his chair almost instantly. He wraps one arm around John's neck and rests the other against John's chest so his fingers trace over John's scar.

"Yours is," Sherlock says, "Yours is special. Yours is beautiful because of how you got it, John. You're a hero, you're…you're more." Sherlock wraps his other arm around John's neck. "Mine is—"

"You once told me heroes don't exist."

"I was wrong."

"Then all of your scars from saving people, Sherlock, they're not ugly either."

Sherlock smiles as much as his stitches will let him and John pulls Sherlock to him. Sherlock bends down and kisses John without irritating his lip.

Later, they go to Angelo's for dinner. Angelo makes a fuss when he sees Sherlock; he asks what happened to his lip and how he got the stitches.

"He got them saving a few kids from a kidnapper. You saw it on the news the other day," John says, smiling at Angelo then Sherlock.

Angelo makes a fuss and kisses Sherlock's cheek, then the other, then get Sherlock a bottle of wine. On the house, of course, anything for a hero.

**Couple 3**

When Sebastian was a kid, he got in a fight with a neighborhood bully and the other kid hit him in the face with a large stick. Sebastian's two front teeth were knocked loose but didn't fall out, the doctors were able to realign them and make sure no further damage was done. Sebastian never had any more problems with them until twenty-five years later.

Not often do these two get in fights with victims or the people hiring them. Every once in a while, Sebastian needs to do something that causes him to get mixed up with the victims, and of course the victims try to fight back. Well, only once has the victim _actually _fought back. That is how Sebastian got hit in the mouth and knocked his teeth loose for the second time.

It shouldn't have happened. The doctors got those things up there so tight that nothing should have been able to pry his teeth loose, well except for an aluminum baseball bat. Why the victim even has a baseball bat, Sebastian's unsure, but he saw that thing coming right for him and he knew it would end bad.

He went straight to the hospital and there they were able to save his teeth from falling out. Barely. Sebastian's not sure if he'd rather have needed fake teeth or what they did instead: which is basically, painfully, push them back in and put braces on him.

Yes, you read correctly: braces.

They are temporary, of course, like all teeth braces are. Six months top, they said. Four months if he takes care of them. Shouldn't be bad, really. Well, unless you live with James Moriarty: the single most heartless human being ever.

"You have braces," Jim laughs as Sebastian opens his mouth the first time to show him.

"It's not that funny," he says.

"It is funny. Braces are for kids, Seb! You're thirty-seven years old!"

"Shut up, Jim. I got them saving your arse."

"You lost a fight to a baseball bat!" Jim laughs again.

"You're gonna lose your life to me here in a second, baby." Sebastian pouts and throws himself on the couch.

Jim laughs and sits next to Sebastian. They sit in silence and watch TV. After fifteen minutes, Sebastian (without realizing it) sucks in excess saliva trying to exit his mouth that won't close all the way over his braces. Jim lifts his head that he was resting on Sebastian's chest and looks at him.

"What?" Sebastian asks.

"Are you drooling?"

Sebastian wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "No."

"You are!"

"I can't control it, ok? You try wearing these bulky things and closing your mouth!"

Jim laughs. And laughs. And laughs more. Finally Sebastian grows so angry that he goes to their room.

The next day, Jim laughs at Sebastian because he gets spaghetti stuck in his braces. Later, he laughs because Sebastian can't chew gum or eat popcorn. After that, he laughs because Sebastian's smile is very shiny.

"Enough!" Sebastian shouts at Jim when he's (obviously) had enough. He's had the braces now for about a week and Jim will not stop laughing.

"I'm sorry, ok? It's just funny."

"Would it have been funny had I lost my teeth? Hmm? Sometimes, not often, you tell me I'm handsome; would you like it if I didn't have teeth? Because I can go down to the dentist office right now and have these taken off."

Jim laughs one last time. "Stop, Seb, I'm sorry. Ok?"

"No! Not ok. You're being really mean!"

"I'm being mean, am I? I could be mean. I could make jokes."

"Laughing is enough," Sebastian sits on the couch and crosses his arms at his chest. He has a very angry look on his face. He looks so childlike with his braces and his pouting face.

"You look very childlike," Jim tells him. He sits on the couch next to Sebastian.

"Gee, thanks, Jim."

"It's kind of," Jim takes Sebastian's chin in hand, "Cute."

Sebastian looks at Jim. "Cute?"

"Kind of…" Jim leans in and kisses Sebastian's lips, "Kind of makes you seem younger." Jim sucks Sebastian's bottom lip.

"Are you calling me old?" Sebastian asks while Jim's still got hold of his bottom lip.

"I didn't say that," Jim kisses Sebastian, this time pushing Sebastian's lips apart with his tongue.

They kiss for a second, maybe two, until Sebastian pulls away. "Ouch, my mouth is sore," he says.

Jim laughs one last time and gives Sebastian many, many closed-mouth kisses.

After that, Jim is more sympathetic toward Sebastian. He helps Sebastian tighten them, he only laughs a little when Sebastian gets food stuck in them, he buys Sebastian a new toothbrush at least every two weeks. Jim knows it could be worse; Sebastian could look like an old man without teeth instead of a teenage boy who drools because he can't close his mouth.

**_*Number 51 and still more to come. Thank you all so much. Thank you this chapter _McMonster _for sharing a well relatable story about having a swollen lip, I think it was? And this is our men with a temporarily altering injury. (Don't be ashamed, _McMonster, _once I dropped my laptop on my face and, like Sebastian, knocked my two front teeth loose. Luckily I did not need braces but I did have a swollen lip and gums for a long time. Also once I got a black eye and bruised ear from slamming my head in a car door. Don't ask, ok? Don't ask. _**


	52. Chapter 52

**Couple 1**

Greg and Mycroft have been together almost a year and just now are they starting to spend the night together on a regular basis. They're still learning a lot about each other and here's one Greg is having a difficult time dealing with: Mycroft does not buy his own underwear.

Once a month, Mycroft receives a box of fifteen pairs of the most expensive underwear Greg's ever seen. They range in dark colors from blue's to black's, they're thick silk and they look like they were actually made for Mycroft (they were).

Each month when Mycroft receives the package, Greg makes fun of him for being incapable of doing such a mundane thing as _buying his own underwear. _Mycroft doesn't grocery shop for himself? Weird. Mycroft doesn't buy his own underwear? Rifuckingdiculous.

Greg decides he needs to shop for new clothes. He needs a few under shirts, underwear, socks, just the normal stuff. And he decides Mycroft's going to go with him.

All of Greg's supplies are in the men's section of the store. The socks are easy, just a package of white and one of black. The t-shirts are the same. But he stops in front of the underwear and gazes at the many racks of brands, colors, cuts, sizes.

"Now this could take all day," Mycroft says.

"It won't. I just can't decide which cut I want. Boxers or briefs?"

"I'm more of a briefs man."

Greg smirks. "I know."

Mycroft nudges him but smiles. "Hurry up, I want to go home."

"Now this is a difficult process. I can't decide. Do I want these dark colors, or do I want these bright colors?"

"Just get the dark ones and let's go."

Forty-five minutes later, _yes forty-five minutes, _they leave the store with Greg's underwear.

Later that night Mycroft finds that Greg switched the first pack Greg chose when Mycroft wasn't looking and bought the light colored ones, including a pair of pink. Yes, pink. Dark pink. Almost red. But nonetheless pink.

"You bought the light ones?"

"Yes I did."

"Why?"

"I like them."

"They're pink."

"One pair is pink."

"They're ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous is that you have yours made."

"That's not ridiculous."

Greg gets out of bed and pulls the now clean, pink, Hanes cotton briefs from his drawer. He hops back onto the bed and tosses them at Mycroft's face.

"What are these for?" Mycroft asks.

"Put them on."

"Why?"

"To prove a point."

"The point being?"

"You'll see."

Greg turns over and goes to sleep. The next morning Greg wakes after Mycroft and goes into the bathroom to see Mycroft shaving in nothing but the pink underwear.

"Now there's a site," Greg says. He walks over to Mycroft and kisses his cheek.

"Thanks," Mycroft says. "They're actually not that bad."

"Wait, wait," Greg says. "Say that again."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "They're not bad."

"Can you tell me I was right? Just once, please," Greg begs, "I never get to be right."

Mycroft rolls his eyes again. "You were right."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"If you say one more thing, I'll take them off."

Greg glances at Mycroft. "That may not be a bad thing."

Mycroft nudges Greg with his elbow.

Mycroft doesn't stop getting his underwear made, but Greg does stop making fun of him for it. He lets Mycroft wear his pretentious underwear because every once in a while Mycroft will wear Greg's underwear and that is the site.

**Couple 2**

John and Sherlock have been together as a couple for six months when John realizes that once every two weeks Sherlock leaves in the morning for no reason. Sherlock doesn't make excuses, he doesn't tell John he's going anywhere specific and John has no specific suspicions, until Sherlock frantically needs to leave one day.

When he comes back, John corners him and makes him talk. After much run-around and fighting, Sherlock comes out with it.

"I was buying underwear."

John thinks that over. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was buying new underwear."

"What? Why? What happened to yours?"

"They got old I needed more."

"…every other Tuesday?"

"Yes," Sherlock takes his underwear from his inside coat pocket and places them in his drawer. "What's the problem?"

"You buy new underwear twice a month?"

"Yes."

"Why, Sherlock?"

"Because the ones I had got old."

"What do you mean…got old?"

Sherlock sighs. "I wear the pair, wash them, wear them again, and after that they're too old."

John thinks that one over too. "Why?"

"They just are. I don't need to justify spending my own money."

"You do when you shop for your expensive underwear twice a month when they're all perfectly fine and we have rent to pay."

"I earn my money, I reserve the right—"

"No, Sherlock."

"No?"

"No. No more underwear. After this no more, you'll keep these ones until you _need_ to buy more."

Sherlock huffs. "You're not the boss of me."

"I'm older," John says. It's an argument used often.

"I don't care."

"Fine," John walks out of the room, but first says, "It's going on the list."

Sherlock's eyes widen. "No, that's not fair."

"No more buying underwear, Sherlock, or I will break up with you."

"That's really unfair."

John reaches up and kisses Sherlock. "It's saving money, love."

Sherlock bought seven pairs and he wants this argument to end quickly, so his solution is to throw the underwear away as he finishes wearing them that day.

So a week and one day later, Sherlock is squirming around a crime scene periodically scratching…areas.

In the cab home, John notices one last time. "You ok, love?"

"Fine."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm itchy."

"Why?"

Sherlock glances at the driver then out the window again. "I'm not wearing underwear."

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock murmurs, "I'm not wearing underwear."

"Again, you've got to speak up."

Sherlock turns to John and says very loudly. "I. Am. Not. Wearing. Underwear."

The cab driver glances in his rearview mirror. John laughs.

"Why?"

"To prove a point."

"The point being?"

"That I am not rewearing the same underwear more than twice. Well, once this time."

"What did you do with your underwear, Sherlock?" John asks.

"I threw them away."

John sighs very loudly and looks out the window.

The argument ends once they get home. John ends it because the image of Sherlock taking off his pants and being momentarily naked from the waist down, then pulling on pajama pants and knowing there's nothing underneath gets his blood boiling.

The next day John doesn't say anything about Sherlock buying new underwear. He doesn't say it the next day either, or the next. He lets Sherlock go commando for a week and a half. Sherlock doesn't complain either, he just scratches and adjusts more. And John notices, that's half the reason he doesn't say anything.

One evening it gets very, very cold out on a scene. Sherlock finds that certain parts of him get so cold that he has to stand while cupping that area. And John laughs. A lot.

"Cold, love?" John asks while they wait.

"A bit."

"You know what would make you a bit warmer?" John smiles up at Sherlock and Sherlock scowls down. "Underwear."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

They go home and Sherlock goes to the restroom. A while later they go to bed and when Sherlock removes his pants, John sees that he's wearing John's underwear.

"Sherlock is that my underwear?"

"Why, yes it is."

"Why?"

"I got cold."

"When did you put those on?"

"When we got home."

"You're cheating."

"I'm not cheating. I didn't buy any. I'll just wear yours." Sherlock looks down at his lower body and peers at John's underwear on his body; they're slightly more large around his waist but too short for him. They hang low on his hips. He stands up straight and rests his hands on his hips. His stomach sucks in and the underwear falls down more. "Don't you like them?"

"Well," John swallows. "Yeah, but—"

"Then I'll just wear yours," Sherlock smiles and gets into bed.

Then John hides his underwear. Sherlock knows where they are (of course) but he knows John needs to prove a point. He goes underwear-less for yet another week and finally at the end John gives in.

"Fine," John says. "You know what? Fine. Do whatever you want. I didn't know we had that extra money before, it's not like anything will change."

Sherlock smiles. "I knew you'd come around." Sherlock kisses John's cheek and leaves to shop for underwear.

He continues his cycle of shopping, but every once in a while he 'forgets' to wear some because he knows John likes it.

**Couple 3 **

When Sebastian and Jim began working together, Jim bought Sebastian new clothes. He actually paid for everything for Sebastian, and that continued throughout their time together. So now it's a year into their real relationship and Sebastian still isn't used to Jim picking out everything he owns.

He asks Jim to stop buying him suits, Jim buys him a new one; he asks Jim to stop buying him shoes, Jim buys him a new pair. For the most part Sebastian puts up a small fight but goes on with it. However, there is one item Sebastian just feels very violated at Jim buying.

Underwear.

"Jim, would you stop buying me underwear?" Sebastian asks.

"What's the problem?"

"I want you to stop buying my underwear!"

"What? Do they not fit?"

"Well, no they're fine—"

"Are they not the correct cut?"

"No, they're perfect—"

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that this is _underwear._ It's weird!"

"It's not that weird."

"It is and I'd like you to stop."

A month later Sebastian receives new underwear. He rolls his eyes and calls Jim.

"Yes?" Jim answers.

"You bought me new underwear."

"Yes."

"I didn't need new underwear."

"Yes."

"Stop saying 'yes'!"

"…_yes_."

Sebastian shouts a few choice curse words and hangs up.

When Jim gets home, Sebastian greets him by throwing each pair of underwear at him.

"What is this for?"

"You bought them, they're yours."

"They won't fit me, we're not the same size."

"Deal with saggy pants then, baby."

Jim smiles. "You're being ridiculous."

"Just stop buying my underwear!"

So what does Jim do? He orders Sebastian seventy-five pairs of underwear. _75. _

"Jim!" Sebastian shouts through their flat as he opens the package he'd just received.

"Yes?"

"What the _fuck_?"

"Problem?"

"You ordered me—"

"Seventy-five."

"Seventy-five pairs of underwear!"

Jim smiles. "You don't like them?"

"I hate you, you know that?"

"Most people say thank you when they receive a gift."

"Apparently I am not most people!"

"Apparently not."

Sebastian stares at Jim and Jim motions to take them off the table.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian asks.

"I'm going to send them back."

Sebastian thinks. "Really?"

"Yes. If you're not going to wear them what am I going to do with them?"

"I mean," Sebastian crosses his arms. "Since they're already here…"

Jim smiles. He kisses Sebastian's cheek. "You're welcome, dear."

Sebastian is in no need for underwear for a long while, and he lets go the fact that Jim buys his underwear. Free stuff, right?

_***Underwear are called underwear because I'm a dumb American and got all the way through writing and realized, "They would say pants…" So just do me a favor and pretend, ok? I'm sorry. **_

**_*Going underwear shopping was a fantastic prompt from _TheFalling _and I loved it, so thank you dear : ) _**


	53. Chapter 53

**Couple 1**

All of his life, Greg Lestrade has been told he's an attractive boy or man. He's never been one keen on his own looks, but the compliments have helped boost in confidence in more ways than one. But he's never really been a man to act on it. If a woman flirts with him in a bar, he doesn't automatically want to go home with her. He has more morals than that, yet he's still had problems with jealous girlfriends because girls flirt with him.

Well, not just girlfriends anymore.

Mycroft will claim day and night that he's not a jealous person. He's never really needed to be; well, not until Greg came along. He's jealous of Greg alone for many reasons; his heart, his traits, his looks, even. And he's even more jealous of the women that flirt with Greg. Even though Mycroft has nothing to worry about, of course.

One evening they go to a bar because Greg wants to watch a match. He meets a few mates there, John one, and it's just a guys' night out. It's not often they have these, but when they have a guys' night out, Mycroft isn't really Greg's boyfriend, he's just another one of the guys. Not in a mean way, it's not like Greg treats him differently or is a jerk to him or something, it's just that Greg and Mycroft are not ones for public displays of affection so in public, if it's not a date, they really are just like two great friends.

So they're at the bar watching the match and around the other side of the bar, there's a group of lovely ladies watching them. John notices and he nudges Greg's shoulder.

"Look at those girls," John says.

"Oh, yeah," Greg laughs.

"They're staring at us."

"So?"

John shrugs and goes back to watching the TV.

Near the end of the match, the group of men are no longer paying attention because their team is losing horribly. The girls are watching them and eventually get up to go to their side of the table. Once there, the head girl taps Greg's shoulder.

Greg turns around. "Oh, hello," he says.

"Hi," she reaches her hand out. "Mindy."

"Hello, Mindy. Greg," he shakes her hand.

By now each man has turned around, including Mycroft.

"What are you boys up to?" Mindy asks.

"Just a guys' night," Greg replies. "You ladies?"

"Girls' night," Mindy smiles at each of them, but mostly Greg.

Mycroft watches Mindy's smile turn seductive, then looks at Greg for his response. Almost zero response.

"You guys up to anything after the match?"

"Not really," Greg replies.

"You want to…hang with us?" she asks. She's flirting so hard and it's so obvious. Mycroft rolls his eyes. She continues, "We could all go to my place."

"No thanks, not for me," Greg says.

"That's too bad because," Mindy touches Greg's knee, "We could have our own little party."

John watches Mindy touch Greg, then he looks at Mycroft. Mycroft looks angry, his cheeks are red. Greg's not even so much as blushing at her touch.

"No, thank you," Greg says.

Mycroft wants to reach out and touch Greg, to claim him as his own, but he doesn't. He quietly waits.

"Too bad," Mindy says. "Here's my number if you change your mind," she says while handing Greg a napkin.

"Thanks," Greg says, putting the napkin on the bar behind him. He downs the last of his beer, looks at Mycroft, and says, "Ready?"

Mycroft nods. Greg hops off his stool, takes Mycroft's hand, and pulls him out of the bar. Mindy looks shocked the whole time.

Once out into the street, Greg pulls Mycroft closer to him. Mycroft tries to resist but loses.

"Jealous?" Greg asks.

"Me? No."

"Yes, you are. You were angry at the girl flirting with me."

"Angry, yes. I'd only have been jealous had you flirted back."

"I handled that very nicely, didn't I?"

"You were very polite."

"Besides, she looked like your brother."

"She did, didn't she?"

They walk further away from the bar when Greg suddenly turns around. "We should keep an eye on John," he says. Mycroft laughs and pulls him down the road towards home.

**Couple 2**

Both John and Sherlock have lived their lives being chased. Well, more Sherlock than John if you'd believe it. There was always one classmate that liked Sherlock, and once he turned fifteen or so there was always that one perverted teacher. John has been chased, but he did go through an awkward stage of being caught between short and tall, skinny and fat. Those years were dreadful, but apart from that he's always been interested and girls (or boys) have always been interested back.

John lived most of his adult life with women. There were a few men here and there, and of course he's head over heels for Sherlock, but he primary stuck with women for the reason that he was more confident with women. Often with men he feels smaller and weaker, but with women he feels bigger and stronger. With women he feels more confident.

And John is a flirt. Big time. Like, no really throw any woman out there and he will do his best to make her feel special. Because he gets that, the need to make women feel special. He once told Harry she didn't deserve the women she got because she didn't make them feel special, but John had that gift. And he uses it. All the time. To any woman.

Sometimes this is the reason Sherlock hates going out with John. He understands that John likes both men and women, and it's a bit difficult for Sherlock to know that he can be left by John for any person on Earth, given they're the correct age. John has a wider range of what he will and won't date, and that kills Sherlock. Especially since John can leave him for women.

This reason is that Sherlock is a smart man. He's a logical man. But when his brain gets meddled by John he turns stupid, and by his logic if John leaves him for a woman it's for the ultimate reason: Sherlock is a man. You cannot get any polar opposite than gender. Get it? If John leaves Sherlock for a woman, Sherlock will know for a fact that he's not good enough because he doesn't have breasts (well, technically), or a vagina, or ovaries, but instead he's got a flat chest, a penis, and an Adam's Apple. Get it? You just can't get more opposite than gender.

So, yeah, Sherlock hates going place with John because John will go out of his way to flirt with women.

Yesterday they went to Starbucks and John talked to a woman at the bar for _seven minutes _about _nothing, _according to Sherlock.

The day before they went to a _bloody crime scene _and John volunteered to take the new girl under his wing; _not that he even should have, he's not a part of the unit!_

A week before that, John flirted with a woman on the tube talking about dogs, for Christ's sake.

Hell, John has even tried being nicer to Molly and actually does flirt with her, which is hell no not ok to Sherlock. Especially because it happens pretty damn often.

So Sherlock brings it up in bed one morning. It's bothering him that much.

"I don't like when you flirt," he says.

John's fingers stop playing with his. "What?"

"I don't like when you pay attention to women."

John scowls. He looks confused even though Sherlock can't see him. "Why?"

"Because you are _mine_."

"It's harmless flirting, Sherlock. It's—"

"I still don't like it."

"I don't like when you keep heads in the fridge but I seem to recall opening the vegetable drawer to a fresh one yesterday."

"That's different, I don't want to take the heads home to have sex with them."

"I don't want to have sex with women I talk to, Sherlock," John's defensive now.

"Of course you do, that's why you flirt. That's why you look at their lips and breast and arses."

"That's not true, Sherlock. I do not want to sleep with women. Those women. Any women. Anybody else."

"Then why do you do it? Why do you flirt?"

"Because I know that it's nice for someone to notice you. It's nice to have that stranger on the street or the tube make you feel special."

"It would be nice for someone to notice you," Sherlock murmurs against his own arm.

"What does that mean?" John asks. "Are you saying I don't notice you?"

"Yes. That's exactly it. I don't like when you pay attention to them and not me. It makes me feel like you want them and not me."

John sits up and half hovers over Sherlock. He takes Sherlock's face in his hand. "Sweetie, that's ridiculous. You see, I actually have to try to flirt with women. But you…I tell you how brilliant you are every single moment and it's not difficult, it's easy. Even the first time you deduced me I wanted to say it was amazing because it was and it was so easy for me to say," John leans down and kisses Sherlock twice. "I'm sorry I don't make you feel special."

"It's not that I want you to make me feel special, John."

"What is it then?"

"I want you to stop flirting."

John agrees to try but of course quitting cold turkey is difficult to do, especially when you've spent almost your whole life trying to be kind to strangers. But he does try and Sherlock appreciates that.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian's always been told he's an attractive man and that's worked to his advantage a lot. It's always been easy for him to pick a girl up and sleep with her, it's been easy to get girlfriends and dates. Since Jim's his first boyfriend he's never worried about the men, well until he does get together with Jim. Jim opened up a whole new world, a whole new gender for him to have sex with.

And Sebastian flirts a lot. He has it down to an art form. He can look at someone and know in seconds that he'll take them home that night. Not that he's had much luck with the men (Jim's the only man he will ever be with) but the sentiment is still there.

On Sebastian's nights out alone he likes to go to bars to 'practice' picking people up. He does it for fun, he likes to be a tease. Just the once does he actually go home with someone (that wasn't good, was it?) so it really is just practice. Jim knows he does it.

Sebastian walks through their front door smelling like beer and someone else. Jim doesn't like it.

"Who'd you pick up tonight?" Jim asks.

"Just some bloke."

"A man?"

"Yes."

"Wow," Jim stretches out on the couch and scowls at the TV.

"Jealous?"

"Of course not."

Sebastian goes to the couch and falls on Jim. "You are, huh?"

"I am not. Get off, you smell awful. I can smell him on you."

Sebastian kisses and nuzzles Jim's cheek. "It was fun. He was nice. He was really pretty, to be honest. Just pretty. Not like you."

"What does that mean?"

"You're not pretty."

"What does _that _mean?"

"It means you actually look manly, he didn't."

"I'm not sure I like that anyway."

"Why? It's a compliment. If I wanted a womanly man, I'd get a woman."

"I don't want you to 'get' anyone."

Sebastian laughs and kisses Jim's ear. "You are jealous."

Jim pushes Sebastian off him and walks towards their bedroom. "You're such a whore, Sebastian," Jim says before disappearing into their bedroom.

Once there, he goes to his closet to change into sleep wear. Sebastian follows. He stands in the doorway of Jim's closet, leaned against the doorframe, and waits.

Finally he asks. "What's the matter?"

"What is the matter? Are you serious? You go out to pick people up because it's _fun, _and you ask what the matter with me is?"

"It is fun, that's all it is. It's a game, Jim."

"What happens when it's not a game anymore, Seb? What happens when you do go home with someone else?" Jim pushes past Sebastian and goes back to their bed. He lays on his side facing away from Sebastian.

"I'd never do that," Sebastian says while falling onto his side of the bed.

"How do I know that?"

"Because this ring," Sebastian holds his hand up. "It reminds me that you're here waiting for me."

Jim turns over onto his back and looks at Sebastian's hand. "I didn't know you wore it out."

"I always wear it out."

"And people still flirt with you?"

"Rings don't matter to people, Jim. But it matters to me." Sebastian turns onto his side and pulls Jim close to him. "I love you, ok? I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, even though I don't think anything would ever really hurt you."

"For the record, it wouldn't hurt me, but I appreciate the sentiment."

A year later is when Sebastian hurts Jim by sleeping with someone else, but after they get back together that time Sebastian stops going to bars to play his game. He knows by then that it's stupid and unnecessary, and that he does love Jim too much.

_***So this is a chapter about each regular man with the opposite sex, except Sebastian because I think he'd just do anyone. I actually write notes about what each chapter would be like and this one says: "Couple 1: Women flirt with Greg a lot. Couple 2: John flirts with women a lot. Couple 3: Sebastian flirts with everyone because he's a whore." I think I was drunk when I wrote that note (Which is funny because I don't drink…) Ha. So thank you for reading, please review! **_


	54. Chapter 54

**Couple 1**

Mycroft likes his cars, right? He has a fair collection and every other year or so he adds one to the collection. This year he's buying a car from Manchester so he decides to, instead of take a jet up the country, drive the little-less-than four hour drive north.

Greg doesn't volunteer to go along. He hates car rides, ever since he was a kid he's gotten car-sick if he isn't driving. And he's not driving. Because Mycroft would rather be driven than do it himself. So Greg doesn't volunteer because he knows it'll end badly.

Half an hour into the trip he's already green.

"You look ill," Mycroft states.

"You're sharper than Sherlock, you are."

Mycroft scowls and looks out the window. He reaches for Greg's hand as he sees a windy road up ahead.

"What are you—" Greg starts to ask why Mycroft grabs his hand so quickly but then he sees the road approaching and moans, falls back on his seat, and squeezes Mycroft's hand.

"You're ok," Mycroft whispers.

"Do I need to pull over, Officer Lestrade?" the driver asks.

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

Mycroft hands Greg a bottle of water. "Here, love, drink."

"No, I'm ok."

The road comes to a straight away and Greg feels better. For a while. About twenty minutes after the windy road, he suddenly feels very, very nauseas.

"Pull over, pull over!" he shouts.

The driver quickly pulls over and Greg barely has the door open before he throws up. Mycroft feels bad for Greg, so when Greg gets back in the car, Mycroft pulls Greg's head onto his lap and rubs his head until Greg falls asleep. Finally he does and he stays asleep for the rest of the trip. Mycroft regrets bringing Greg along because not only was Greg not good company, he threw up on the door of the car.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock learned how to drive when he was seventeen-years-old, so when they get a case a little-less-than three hours away in Cardiff, he elects to drive himself, but not without John. John doesn't really like car rides, he doesn't like to be confined in a car. But he goes because Sherlock was being stubborn and wouldn't leave without him.

"Seriously, Sherlock, I don't even know why I'm coming. I'm just here as a shadow, it's not like I ever do anything for you."

"You're keeping me company on the drive."

"But when we get there, what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, John. Enjoy being away from the city?"

"I was away from the city for long enough and I got shot. I think I'm good with never leaving the city again."

"What about when we went on vacation?"

"That was vacation. This is work."

Sherlock doesn't reply and instead watches the road. Half an hour later, John is at it again.

"What if we have to stay for more than three days, huh?"

"Then you could go home if it's really bothering you that much."

"You're my ride."

"Drive back, I'll send for a jet."

"You'll send for a jet for a three hour drive?"

"Well how am I supposed to get home if you leave me?"

John looks out the window and murmurs, "I can't leave you."

Sherlock looks at John and smiles. "Thank you, John."

"No, no. I said I _can't, _not I _won't_."

Sherlock frowns. "I don't understand."

"It means I couldn't leave you with this car if I wanted to."

Sherlock frowns harder. "I'm very confused right now, John."

John sighs. "I can't drive, Sherlock."

Sherlock looks perplexed. "What?"

"I can't drive, I never learned how."

"I thought you had to know how to drive for the military."

"Passed the test on a whim. That was my first and last time ever driving."

"John, are you joking? Because sometimes you joke and I don't know—"

"I'm not joking, Sherlock. I really do not know how to drive a car."

Sherlock smiles. His smile grows until it's a large, goofy grin all over his face and he's laughing.

"Don't laugh!" John shouts, hitting Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock stops laughing and pulls the car over. He shuts up the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" John asks.

Sherlock gets out of the car and goes to John's side. He opens John's door and reaches over John to unbuckle him.

"You drive," Sherlock says, handing John the keys.

"What? You're crazy!"

"It's a straight away. Nobody's around. It's the middle of the day. Come on, you can do it."

John crosses his arms and stares out the front window. "No."

"Oh, come on. You've got to learn. What if suddenly I can't drive and you have to?"

"I'll call Mycroft."

Sherlock pulls John's arms but the little, strong man won't budge. "John, you're being ridiculous," he says.

"You're going to be late for the case. What if in the five minutes we've been sitting here, they've solved it?"

"Nonsense, they're all missing a vital clue."

John stares at Sherlock. "That you know?"

"Of course I know."

"And you didn't tell them?"

"Well, no I wanted to—"

John sighs. "Get in the car and drive, Sherlock. It's your fault I'm not in my comfy chair right now."

Sherlock stays for a second but finally backs off. He kisses John's cheek quickly before returning to the driver's seat.

They make it to their destination and Sherlock takes only a few hours solving the case. John makes him spend the night there anyway.

**Couple 3**

Jim is very capable of hiring a driver to take him and Sebastian to Bristol for a client. However, Jim has a very capable employee/boyfriend who loves driving and made Jim agree not to hire a driver. So now they're on their way to Bristol, they're not even an hour in, and Sebastian's fed up.

"Why are you even here?" Sebastian asks. "I could do this on my own."

"Yes, you could."

Sebastian doesn't reply. It's silent for two minutes and Jim asks, "Where are we?"

Sebastian sighs. "I don't know."

"How long have we been driving?"

"Almost an hour."

"How much longer?"

"Couple of hours."

"Ughhhhhhh," Jim makes a loud, annoyed sound.

They're silent for two minutes when Jim asks, "What's that?"

"That would be a tree."

Two minutes later, he says, "I'm hungry."

"Not my problem."

"Haven't you got snacks?"

"Why would I bring snacks?"

"I don't know."

Sebastian rolls his eyes and keeps driving.

Two minutes later, Jim asks, "How much longer now?"

"Jesus Christ," Sebastian blows up, "Shut the fuck up!"

"I'm just asking—"

"Yes, I know, but please be quiet."

Three minutes later this time, Jim asks, "Are we there yet?"

"Oh my god!" Sebastian shouts. He pulls over and unlocks Jim's door. "Get out."

"What? You're crazy!"

"Get out of the car. I'm leaving you here."

"You can't leave me here."

"Walk back to London or I'll be back to pick you up later."

"You're insane."

"Get. Out."

Jim gets out of the car. He doesn't think Sebastian will drive away, he just thinks Sebastian wants Jim to do as he says, but Sebastian does drive away.

"Sebastian!" Jim shouts down the road. He calls Sebastian.

"Hello?"

"Get back here!"

"No."

"Get back here or I'm kicking you out and you'll never see me again!"

"Ooooh, big threat."

"Fine! I'll go back to London."

"I'll go pick you up if you promise to be quiet."

"No!"

"Ok, I'm going to hang up, then. Goodbye, love."

"Fine, fine!" Jim shouts. "I'll promise to be quiet, you bastard! Now come back!"

Sebastian turns back to get Jim and, as promised, Jim is quiet for the rest of the trip.

_***Here's a short, quick fic written because I'm going up state to a concert three hours away today. I thought it would be a fun story! **_


	55. Chapter 55

**Couple 1**

Mycroft and Greg are both mature men that know they're allowed to think other people attractive while being with each other. Sure, they do get jealous, but they know there are other pretty people in the world and that's ok.

Greg usually doesn't pay attention when women flirt with him. He never has and he probably never will. Mycroft, however, will let anyone flirt with him, flirt back, and not even realize he's doing it. Greg thinks it's the most strange thing his boyfriend does, because not only would he never let anyone else take him home, he'd never take anyone else home.

They're at the grocery store, both of them, which doesn't happen often. Greg leaves Mycroft alone for a few minutes, he goes to find something in another isle, and when he turns the corner to reacquaint with Mycroft, he sees Mycroft talking to a man. Greg falls back into the end of the isle, out of site, and waits.

The man is leaning against his basket, which is against Mycroft's on the other side. Mycroft is trying to decide which types or flavors of yogurt to get.

"I'd go with the strawberry," the man says.

"I don't know, I usually get blueberry or lemon."

"Lemon? I've never tried lemon before."

"It's quite nice, you should try it sometime," Mycroft says in a friendly voice.

"Oh yeah?" The man steps closer to Mycroft. "Maybe I will."

"Maybe I will try the strawberry," Mycroft says.

"Good choice," the man says, then smiles at Mycroft.

To anyone it wouldn't sound like flirting, but to the man that _knows _what Mycroft sounds like while flirting and recognizes another man's flirts, Greg sees what's happening. He waits to see if Mycroft will leave the isle, but when Mycroft doesn't he grows annoyed. He knows he shouldn't, but that man is really irking him. He walks down the isle and grabs Mycroft's arm.

"Hey, ready?" he asks.

Mycroft looks at Greg and smiles. Greg sees the other man's smile disappear and he straightens his stance.

"When you are," Mycroft says.

They walk out of the isle and leave the man wondering what just happened.

**Couple 2**

Everybody thinks Sherlock Holmes is pretty. Everybody. Man, woman, cat, dog, adolescent, teen, adult. Everybody.

Which really does get on John's nerves.

John is a calm man. He's a fair man. He understands hormones and needs, but he doesn't understand the need for everybody to want his man. _His _man, get that? John's.

But Sherlock doesn't get it because he knows he is John's man and he knows everyone in the world is sex crazed and hormonal, and that he was given a fortunate mix of genetics. He knows that anywhere they go there will be someone to flirt and someone to stare, but it's his job to say no or call them an idiot.

They're at a department store now getting Sherlock a few new shirts (he ripped three last week, don't ask). John lingers at the belts and Sherlock continues towards the shirts. John doesn't notice, but Sherlock does, the man sort of following Sherlock to the shirts.

"That's a nice color," the man says to Sherlock as Sherlock picks one up to examine closer.

"Thanks," Sherlock dryly says.

"Nice cut, too."

Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes. "Please don't," he angrily says.

"Don't what?" the man innocently asks.

Sherlock glances at John still looking through the belts. "See that man over there?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"He will kill you."

"Hey, what are you—"

"I know what you're doing and he will know what you're doing. And he. Will. Kill. You."

"Look, man, I don't know—"

"Please leave now," Sherlock says before examining another shirt.

The man quickly leaves the store after knocking over a stand of sunglasses. John reappears at Sherlock's side and asks, "What was that about?"

"Nothing, my love," Sherlock says before kissing the top of John's head and heading to a register with three new shirts.

**Couple 3**

Let's just start this bit in the middle, where they're at a client's office waiting to see him about something or another (Sebastian doesn't pay attention to the briefings, he just shoots when told). They wait about ten minutes.

"He's late," Sebastian hisses.

"It's his office, he has the right to be late."

"Don't we have another meeting at noon?"

"What? Another meeting?"

"That's what you told me this morning."

"Oh! Right! No, I made lunch reservations and I wanted to be sure you were free."

"What? Sienna asked me to keep Logan today and I told her no because I thought we had a meeting."

"You should have told me."

"How was I supposed to know you didn't schedule a meeting but instead—" Sebastian is cut off.

"Well, hello!" the client says coming through his doorway.

"Hello. James Moriarty, how do you do?" Jim says, holding his hand out. He has a large smile on his face.

"Preston Tyler," he takes Jim's hand and shakes. He smiles back. He looks at Sebastian. The smile fades. "And you are?"

"Sebastian Moran, pleaure," Sebastian holds his hand out but Preston doesn't take it. Instead he sits, so Jim sits, so Sebastian rolls his eyes and sits.

They go over what needs to be done for Preston and he shows them out, all the way down to their cab on the street.

"If you have any more questions," Preston says, "Give me a call. Here's my private line." He hands Jim a business card. "If you have any questions, any at all." He gives Jim a warm smile and leaves without even looking at Sebastian.

In the cab Sebastian stares out the window and Jim smiles out the window.

"Why do I even come to meetings?" Sebastian asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't like to be made a fool of, and that's what you just did."

"Are you jealous?"

Sebastian pouts. "No."

"Are you more jealous that I just got another man's number, or that it finally wasn't you that got the attention?" Jim asks, smiling while asking.

Sebastian crosses his arms and pouts more. "Both."

Jim laughs and looks at Sebastian. "Oh, Seb," he says. "Did you _see _him?"

Sebastian scowls. "Yes."

"Did you see his eyes? How green they were? And his hair, ugh. That cut just complimented his face so well."

Sebastian runs a hand through his long hair.

"He looked like he works out, didn't he?"

Sebastian feels his own arm muscles.

"He was so perfectly…portioned."

Sebastian looks down his own body. He rests his arms on his lap over his crotch. His cheeks grow hot.

"I'm in love, Seb."

"Yes," Sebastian says through clenched teeth, "You are." _With me, _Sebastian thinks.

"He was perfect."

Just then the car stops and Sebastian jumps out. Jim pays the driver and follows him. He's in no rush to catch Sebastian, he just loves to torture him.

"I left my phone at home, can I borrow yours?" Jim calls to Sebastian.

"What for?"

"I know who I want to spend my lunch date with," Jim says.

Sebastian stops. He knows (hopes) Jim is joking, but it's still bothering him.

"Is it bothering you, me talking about another man that way?"

Sebastian looks at Jim. "What gave you that idea?"

"You practically ran away from me when I began talking about that beautiful man."

Sebastian partially nods and looks away from Jim.

"Now do you see how I feel when you leer at women everywhere we go?"

Sebastian looks at Jim again. "You feel this way?"

Jim nods.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says.

Jim smiles and puts an arm over Sebastian's shoulder. "I know. Come on, we're late for lunch."

"What about your love Preston?"

"I'm over him. His eyes were too green, his hair wasn't long enough. And he obviously spends that much time at the gym to stare at his trainer rather than work out."

Sebastian smiles and puts an arm around Jim's waist and they walk together to their lunch date.

_***Hello! Sorry for the long delay, I've been on vacation : ) But here was a short, short chapter about one of our guys and the same sex because everyone loves them a piece of consulting detective. I wasn't going to update at all tonight but I miss the reviews. I joke! But seriously. Tell me what you think : ) **_


	56. Chapter 56

**_*This is a warning because _meritsofducttape _is baby and in case you are reading this you shouldn't be reading this but proceed by all means because I'm a bad influence anyway. But really, warning for sexual stuff. Not too much. But it's there, we all know it is. _**

**Couple 1**

Mycroft doesn't talk about the men he's dated and Greg doesn't ask. There's no specific reason other than the fact that Mycroft doesn't dwell. He doesn't have to see his ex's, he doesn't have to talk to them. The only reason they talk to or about Greg's ex wife is because she is the mother of his daughters. If not for his daughters, he'd have no connection to her any more.

One day, Greg is cleaning out Mycroft closet because that's the one place Mycroft keeps all of his junk and he won't get rid of it. So Greg decides to clean it because enough is enough and Mycroft won't miss any of that old stuff anyway.

He manages to get everything out of the closet and now he's going through it to see what he should keep for Mycroft and what to throw away. There are a few boxes, a few files, a few old household use items. Most of the boxes are marked except two. Greg grows curious and looks through them.

The first possibly breaks Greg's heart, or makes it grow ten times larger, because the first box contains old photos of him and Sherlock, along with a few of their old toys and a few little boy shirts. He looks at the tag for a size, any indication of whose shirts they are, and on the tag there's an MH, but the M is crossed out and under it is a small backwards S. Greg hugs it. _How cute, _he thinks.

The second box is actually less shocking than the first, if you can believe it. It's a box with a few files and photos. He looks through the files and sees names he doesn't recognize: "James Porter," "Robert Trahan," "Dennis Lang," "Daniel Perry,". There are three more files but he doesn't look through them, instead he looks at the photos.

The first is of a young man, probably in his twenties. It's an older photo but still in neat condition. The man is smiling, he looks happy.

There's another of a man looking out the window of a coffee shop. It's not the same man as the first, and this man looks angry, or sad. Greg's unsure what to make of it. He sets it down and looks through more.

He looks through dozens of photos, some of the same men, and finally comes across one very peculiar one. It's of a man lying in a bed wearing nothing but women's underwear. It's very obviously women's underwear, but it seems to fit him perfectly. Greg stares at the photo and tries to figure out if he's seen the man, but when he decides he hasn't he sets it down to look at another.

A while later he hears Mycroft come into the flat. He doesn't make any attempt to move or hide what he's found, so when Mycroft comes into the room he gives a surprised, "Oh dear."

Greg looks up at him while still holding a few photos. "Hello, dear," he gives Mycroft a smile.

"What are you doing? Where did you find that?"

"I was cleaning out your closet and I found this box."

"You don't seem upset," Mycroft skeptically says.

"I'm not. Am I supposed to be?"

"Some people are when they find a box of their significant other's ex-partner's memories."

"Oh, is that what this is? I thought it was a box of all the men you've killed."

"Greg, are you being serious? Because sometimes I don't know—"

"Mycroft, of course I know this is a box of your ex's. I was just curious, that's why I continued looking through it. I'm sorry if—"

"No, it's alright. I just thought you'd be angry that I have a box with files on my ex's."

"What? That's silly. That's like you being angry that I still see my daughters."

"This box isn't exactly a child, Greg."

"Yeah, but it's memories."

Mycroft shrugs and goes to the restroom to wash up. When Greg's finished with the photos, he picks up the one of the man in the bed and goes to the kitchen where Mycroft now is.

"Mycroft, could you just explain one thing to me?"

"What is it?"

Greg holds the photo up. "What is this?"

Mycroft frowns and his cheeks grow hot. "I—uh—that—" he babbles.

"I realize it's a photo of one of the men you've been with, and he's in a bed, but…uh…well, I guess you can guess the curious part."

Mycroft clears his throat and turns towards the sink. "He just…uh…liked to wear women's underwear."

"Mhm," Greg replies, reexamining the photo. "Is that…something _you_ like?"

"Me? What? No!" Mycroft opens the refrigerator door and quickly shuts it again. "I would never wear—"

"Not for _you _to wear, but for you to _see_."

Mycroft doesn't looks Greg in the eye but he turns to face him. "That's not really anything—"

"Is it?" Greg asks again.

"Well, he'd already been doing it, so it seemed silly of me to tell him to stop, really…"

"But you didn't tell him to stop?"

"Well, no…"

"So you liked it?"

"Well, 'like' is a difficult word to agree to…"

"But one could agree…"

"One could…"

"That one likes men in women's underwear…"

"One could say that…"

"Are you…one, Mycroft?"

Mycroft finally flicks his gaze to Greg. "Perhaps…just a little."

Greg bursts into laughter. It's not anything he means to make Mycroft feel uncomfortable about, it's just so _funny_.

"Please stop laughing," Mycroft says. He walks past Greg to go to their bedroom. "That's very embarrassing."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean for it to be," Greg follows him and finds him on the floor cleaning the photos up. "Here, let me. I have a few more questions."

They go through a few photos and Mycroft explains each. First of all, he's not in any of the photos; he didn't want anything coming back to him. Then he explains to Greg that the first photo of the young man was Mycroft's first and only boyfriend when he was in his twenties. He meant a lot to Mycroft. The second of the man in the coffee shop was Robert Trahan, a man he was involved with but wasn't his boyfriend. It was taken the day Robert's mother passed away.

Mycroft also explained that there are photos because (at the time) he was afraid his brain would delete the men, so he took photos so he could remember. He'd taken many photos for as long as he could remember so that he wouldn't forget anything.

Two weeks later, Greg and Mycroft go on a date and Greg tells Mycroft he's got a surprise waiting at home. Mycroft does not like surprises, but he patiently waits it out and when they get home, he finds the surprise.

"Greg," Mycroft breaths out as Greg pulls his jeans off. "What is—"

"What do you think?"

"Greg, it's…" Mycroft knows he knows words but for the life of him he can't bring himself to make them come out of his mouth.

"They're rather comfortable, actually. Not too snug like I was afraid."

"Oh…my…" Mycroft looks from Greg's crotch to his face.

Greg takes three steps and stands right in front of Mycroft. Mycroft runs his fingers over the soft fabric around Greg's hips.

"Do you like it?"

"Love…love…oh, god, Greg…" with that Mycroft pulls Greg to the bed and shows him just how much he appreciates his man in those soft, pink, lace underwear.

After that it's not often Greg decides to wear the underwear for Mycroft, but when he does he gets a great, great reward.

**Couple 2**

When Sherlock has to go undercover (which is often) he does not mess around. If he has to make it look like he works for a certain company, he gets a job at said company. If he has to become an expert in something, he becomes an expert. If he has to go undercover as a cross-dresser, he shaves his long legs.

John arrives home shortly after Sherlock shaves his legs the first time. He doesn't tell John he has to do so, he doesn't tell John any detail of the case over the three texts they exchanged other than tonight John needs to dress nice. So when John gets home to see Sherlock rubbing lotion on his newly shaved legs, his mouth dries up a bit.

"Sherlock, what are you—"

"Mrs. Hudson informed me that I need more sun, John. Never mind the fact that I'm a grown man with hairless legs, it's my skin she is worried about. She mentioned something about vampires. John, what is Twilight?"

John looks perplexed, but his eyes don't leave Sherlock's legs. "Mrs. Hudson knows what Twilight is?"

"Is it worth me knowing what it is?"

"Not even in the slightest, and that right now has zero importance in my mind. What, my love, are you doing with shaved legs?"

"Going undercover of course, why else would I shave my—" Sherlock cuts himself off, pulls his leg down from the coffee table, and stares up at John. "John, you never told me—"

"Do not, Sherlock, don't you dare deduce my sexual kinks."

"It wouldn't be the first time, John," Sherlock says, then winks at John. His attention goes back to his legs, where he is now covering them with long, black, lace stockings.

"What are you going undercover as, Sherlock?"

"If I told you it'd ruin the fun of tonight."

"You tell me right now, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock smiles at John and shakes his head.

Sherlock continues getting ready (complete with the stockings, black lace underwear, a sort of male mini skirt (John had to think that one over), a _red _corset, and bright red lip stick) and after he's ready, he and John head to the club they are now investigating (embezzlement case).

Sherlock sits John at a table and tells John he'll be right back. After ten minutes John grows worried but he doesn't move, that way Sherlock can find him (there's no way Sherlock has his mobile on him). John waits and waits and finally the lights in the building dim and an announcer comes on over John's head.

"Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that 'Happy Hour' has just begun! Sit back and enjoy the show!"

John looks around for Sherlock but when he can't find him, he does indeed sit back and think about enjoying whatever show he's about to see.

What he doesn't anticipate is the show being lots of men dressed similarly to Sherlock and stripping. He doesn't see Sherlock, which is fortunate, but after a minute or two of being unable to take his eyes off the stage, John sees Sherlock coming toward him out of the corner of his eye.

"I brought you a drink," Sherlock says, setting a beer on the table.

John looks at Sherlock and stares, very confused.

"Don't act like you're bothered by this," Sherlock says.

"So, what do you work here?"

"In fact, I do."

"Oh, god."

"The owner took a quick liking to me, which is fortunate because I can get closer to him quicker—"

"Oh, no."

"What?"

"There's no way you're parading yourself around here wearing that with your boss being a man who 'took a quick liking to you,'."

"You took a quick liking to me."

"Exactly!" John shouts.

"What is the problem? It's for a—"

"I know it's for a case, it's always for a case, but you just look so—"

"Gorgeous? Hot?" Sherlock leans closer to John, their lips almost touch. "Delectable? Sexy?"

John's eyelids feel heavy and he half closes his eyes, he leans closer to Sherlock and their lips brush. "Fuckable," he says before giving Sherlock a quick kiss.

"Don't worry, John, nothing will happen."

Well, what happens that first night is consulting arse gets touched by _seven_ men, none of which are John Watson; consulting crotch gets groped _twice _(that John sees); and consulting lips threatened to be kissed _four times, _only once by John (to prove a point). After that first night, John's not invited back, and there's no way in hell he wants to know what Sherlock let men do while John wasn't watching.

The good thing about this case is that it only lasted three weeks and Sherlock kept all of his costumes, both of which John was very, very thankful for.

**Couple 3**

When it comes to these two and sex, it's really rather basic. Not often is there something to enhance experience or anything like that, what these two like is to get from A to B as efficiently as possible. Orgasms are easy to come by and erections don't just _go away, _so for them (mostly Jim) sex is a necessity that unfortunately even he has. Luckily for Sebastian, though, he is actually so well taken care of that it doesn't even matter that there's nothing really 'spicing up their sex life'.

It's three years into their relationship and by now they've turned into an old married couple that sits at home on Friday nights watching movies and boring each other to death. Well, not really, because they are so _not _boring, but they are boring each other to death. Tonight they're watching a movie that they don't even know what the plot or the title is, all they know is there's a man in drag.

After the movie they head to bed and talk about the day they had.

"That was an interesting movie," Jim says.

"It was."

"That woman was very pretty."

"Oh?"

"She had very long legs. I don't know what it was about her, but I find her very attractive."

"Jim?"

"Yes, Seb?"

Sebastian rolls onto his back so he can better understand this, even though that doesn't make sense. "Are you talking about the woman wearing the pretty dresses? The one with black hair and the tan skin? And the green eyes?"

"Yes."

"Oh, honey," Sebastian says, "That was a man."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then," Jim says, laying on his back next to Sebastian. "There's an attraction I didn't know I had."

A week later, a similar movie is on TV (Sebastian is wondering where all these movies are coming from), so they watch and Jim stares at the man wearing women's clothes the whole time. Sebastian doesn't really thinks it's weird, he knows Jim could totally be into weirder shit than this, but he finds Jim interesting.

A week after that, they are walking down the street and pass a lingerie store. Jim stops at the window and looks at the mannequins, both men and women in lingerie, then he looks over at Sebastian.

"Oh, no," Sebastian says.

"What?"

"Do not get any ideas, Jim."

"I don't have any ideas"

"Yes you do, I can see it in your eyes."

Jim gives Sebastian a sly smile. "Now Seb, why would I have any ideas while looking at these male mannequins in lingerie and of you?"

Sebastian eyes Jim then walks away down the street.

For the next week, Jim asks Sebastian almost every day to dress in drag.

"No," Sebastian says for the third day in a row.

"Please, Seb?"

"No. How many times do I have to say no?"

"Just once, I promise. I just want to try it out."

"I don't want to."

"It'd be sexy, I'm sure. Please? I'd do the same for you."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to do anything…weird."

"What about that time you asked me to—"

"That was extremely different do not act like this is the same situation," Sebastian says in one breath.

Jim smiles and kisses Sebastian. "Ok, I'll stop asking."

He asks again two days later.

"No," Sebastian says.

"Please? Please?"

"What would I get out of it?"

"What would you get out of it? What more do you want than great sex?"

"It's already pretty great, Jim."

"How sweet," Jim says, "You think it's great."

"I do and I don't want to dress in drag."

"I'm not asking for full drag, and you don't even need to go out in public."

"Still a no."

Jim really does stop asking after that. He knows he's not going to change Sebastian's mind so he lets it go, but he still thinks about it. Sebastian can tell he thinks about it, too, because when they pass that lingerie shops, he glances at the mannequins and gets this certain look.

Finally one day, Sebastian says, "Ah, fuck it," and goes to the lingerie store.

"Lookin' for somethin' for the missus?" the store attendant says.

"Something for my boyfriend, actually."

"Oh? He likes dressin' up, does he?"

Sebastian isn't overly fond of the store attendant, but it's too late to turn back now. "Actually, it's not for him, it's _for _him."

"Oh, I see. Somethin' for you to show off to your mister."

"He's not really my mister, but—"

"I got just the thing, honey."

Sebastian leaves the store and embarrassingly goes home carrying the shopping back from the store, but he knows it'll be worth it because it'll make Jim happy.

When he gets home he puts on the one item he bought then leaves to meet Jim for dinner.

After dinner they get home and Sebastian gets Jim into their room quickly.

"Why are you so eager?" Jim asks.

"Because I want to get these damn things off," Sebastian says.

"What things?"

"Just…undress me, please."

Curiously and cautiously, Jim undresses Sebastian and finds his underwear to be replaced with the red lace panties from the window of the lingerie store. "Oh, baby…" Jim says while running his fingers over the lace. "What's this for?"

"For you to stop asking. Now stop playing and get to it already."

"Now hold on, I have to savor this. I don't know if I can ever get you to wear these again. And this is a big deal," Jim smiles at Sebastian and kisses him. "I should take a photo," he adds.

"Oh, hell no."

Jim reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone before Sebastian can, and he tries to take a picture but Sebastian pushes him and he falls back onto the bed. Once there, the night resumes with Jim trying to figure out how to have sex with underwear still on (it doesn't work) and ends with Sebastian agreeing that yes, Jim did make it worth his while.

**_*Whew. When _TheFalling _suggested cross-dressing or lingerie or women's clothes I didn't know where it was going to go but behold, if there's a will there's a way and I found a way! I hope you all enjoy these men being epically sexy. The Mystrade section is totally ooc for Mycroft, I think, but that's ok because…well, I don't know why but it is ok. _**

**_*I enjoyed _ongreenergrasses _and _farfleetingfair's _like thoughts liveblog? That totally made my day, guys, thank you. I hope I didn't miss your flight. : )_**


	57. Chapter 57

**Couple 1**

Mycroft's life has been a schedule ever since he could remember. It's been a routine. As a child, even a young child, he woke up at 7:45 AM, washed, was at breakfast by 8:15, ate breakfast with his parents for fifteen minutes, then had lessons. When Sherlock was old enough, he got his brother on a similar schedule and they kept the schedule the whole time they lived at their mother's house. Well, Mycroft's still on the schedule.

Greg, however, has never really been on a set daily schedule. As a kid, he'd get up, have breakfast, wash up, then go to school. It was similar to Mycroft but he was less neat about it and was often late to school. Now, as an adult, he's often late for many things.

Mycroft always wakes up before Greg and gets to the bathroom first. But now they've been together for so long that Mycroft knows exactly when Greg will wake up and need into the bathroom.

Mycroft anticipates the knock on the door. He answers, lets Greg in, and waits right outside the door for the few seconds it takes Greg to pee.

Greg opens the door and pulls Mycroft inside. "All clear," he says, pressing forward to kiss Mycroft.

"Teeth, please," Mycroft says.

Greg smiles and backs off. They stand in front of the sink in silence. Greg brushes his teeth and after a minute, Mycroft steps to the side and lets Greg have enough room to bend and spit. When Greg pulls back, Mycroft steps back in front of the mirror and resumes shaving.

When Greg's finished brushing, Mycroft steps aside once more and lets Greg rinse his face, then gives Greg enough room to apply shaving crème to his face. After, Mycroft steps back over and they each stand in front of the mirror.

"Big day?" Mycroft asks.

"No, why do you ask?"

"You shaved yesterday and you're shaving today."

"Oh," Greg says, smiling, "Is this the part when I say I want to look tidy for the date we have tonight."

Mycroft smiles. "Liar. I know you have court today."

"How do you know?" Greg asks.

"John told me."

Greg pauses and looks at Mycroft. "Should I be concerned with the relationship you have with John?"

Mycroft laughs. "Ha! Please, if there was anything going on between us, my brother would get to me first."

Greg looks at Mycroft through slanted eyes. "I'll take your word for it. For now."

Mycroft rolls his eyes and smiles at Greg through the mirror. Greg steps away from the mirror so Mycroft can wash his face, then steps back to wash his own.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Mycroft asks as Greg begins to strip off for a shower.

"Surprise me," Greg says, stepping into the shower.

Mycroft leaves the room and gets breakfast ready (he does that now), and once Greg's clean he joins Mycroft in the kitchen. When they're finished they both head downstairs and into their separate cars, but not before the routine parting kiss.

**Couple 2**

John likes to think he's a well organized and scheduled person, but in reality, you can't be well organized and scheduled while living with Sherlock Holmes. Because while John likes to get up at 7:30, no later than 8, Sherlock likes John before he gets out of bed. Before John's out of bed, John is soft and warm and happy and snuggly and warm, did we mention warm? And soft? Sherlock likes that. Before his feet touch the floor, John doesn't remember Afghanistan or shootings, he remembers that he loves Sherlock.

Unfortunately, last night Sherlock pissed John off _so bad _that John went to bed without kissing his love goodnight and woke up without kissing him goodmorning.

And that's why Sherlock takes it upon himself to invade John's shower. _Again._

"Sherlock Holmes, get your bony butt out of my shower. _Now_."

"Not until you give me a proper goodmorning."

"Why?"

"Because I missed vital John time and I want it back. If you won't get back in bed, well you owe me a goodmorning."

John quickly kisses Sherlock's cheek and pulls back to rinse the soap out of his hair.

"What in God's name was that?" Sherlock asks.

"That's your goddamn goodmorning."

"Like hell it is, John."

"Why are _you _upset? I have every right to be upset, you do not. Now get. Out. Of. My. Shower."

Sherlock stares at John for a minute, then says, "Fine." and gets out of the shower.

John thinks he's Holme-free (pardon the pun), so he relaxes a bit and leans against the cool shower tiles. Once he realizes he'll be late for work, he gets out of the shower to see Sherlock laying on the bathroom floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Resting."

"Rest in bed."

"Not without you."

"Cute, Sherlock."

"Thanks, I thought it would be."

"Now get up."

"Not a chance," Sherlock says.

"Then move your legs, I can't even get out of the tub."

Sherlock spreads his legs a bit, enough for John to step between them and over next to Sherlock's torso, where the sink is.

"Get up, I don't have room."

"No," Sherlock replies.

"I will stand on your chest."

"You don't weigh that much, it won't kill me. I've been ran over by a car."

"Yes, I damn well will kill—you've been ran over by a car?"

"Yes, I have."

John chuckles. "No you have not."

"I have. I was a young boy, about seven."

"How, dare I ask, were you ran over by a car?"

"My nanny at the time didn't notice I left her side leaving the car. I dropped something, I went back to get it. the car began rolling backwards, knocking me down, and running me over."

"That sounds highly unlikely."

"They called it a freak accident."

"I don't believe you."

"Ask Mycroft."

"I will. Later. Now move your legs!" John illustrates his request by kicking Sherlock's right leg out of the way. He steps over it and side steps to the sink. He steps on Sherlock's chest with one foot and firmly takes his place at the sink.

Sherlock scoots closer to John, leaving John no space to stand.

"I will kick you!" John shouts.

"Do it!"

John doesn't, though he wants to. He begins brushing his teeth while Sherlock bugs him by poking his legs and pulling on the towel wrapped around his waist.

By the time John's finished brushing, he's had enough because Sherlock pulls his towel off. "That's it!" he shouts. He steps over Sherlock's head, next to the door, grabs hold of Sherlock's arms, and pulls him out of the bathroom.

Well, he tries. Sherlock doesn't budge.

"You practically weigh nothing any other time but _now _is when you choose to apply your weight."

"I'm quite strong, John. Did you underestimate me?"

"Me underestimate you? Never."

John pulls and pulls and finally gains leverage to get Sherlock out of the bathroom. He lays Sherlock in the hall and quickly hops back into the bathroom, where he slams and locks the door.

"No fair!" Sherlock shouts.

"Tough, you pain in my arse!"

John hurries through the rest of his bathroom routine. When he's finished, Sherlock's still laying on the floor in front of the door. John rolls his eyes and steps over him.

"I don't have time for breakfast, you clot!"

"Hardly my fault," Sherlock says.

"Hardly! Yes, hardly, it was _all _your fault!"

"If you don't give me a proper goodmorning, I will follow you to work like this," Sherlock looks down at his own naked body.

John laughs. "Yeah, right." He walks to the door and opens it.

Sherlock follows him all the way downstairs.

"Go upstairs, Mrs. Hudson is in!"

"Then kiss me, John."

John can hear Mrs. Hudson coming towards her front door for the paper. He glances at her door, then quickly grabs Sherlock and gives him a proper kiss.

"There," he says, pulling away. "Happy?"

"Immensly," Sherlock kisses John once more and disappears out of site on time for Mrs. Hudson to open her door.

"Having a good morning, John?" she asks.

"Oh, it's surely been interesting," John says, leaving the house.

He is late for work, but there's no surprise there.

**Couple 3**

Today they both sleep late without meaning to. The alarm is set for 7:55 AM, but somehow it turned off in the night (not really, Sebastian forgot to set it), and they both wake up at 8:15. They scramble out of bed because they have a meeting across town at 9.

They both make it to the front of the sink at the same time. Luckily they both showered last night, which doesn't make them as fresh as can be, but it'll do. They stand in front of the sink and take out their toothbrushes.

Sebastian throws the first elbow at Jim's shoulder because Jim stepped over the invisible boundary. He wasn't giving Sebastian enough room.

"What was that for?" Jim demands.

"Stay on your side!"

Unfortunately they don't think it over that one is left handed and the other right, so their elbows constantly hit each other.

"Stop hitting me!" Jim shouts.

"Me? _You_ stop hitting _me_!"

Jim kicks Sebastian in the shin. Sebastian squirts toothpaste at him with his electric toothbrush.

"Hey, cut it out!" Jim shouts.

"You started it!"

Sebastian sets his toothbrush down and reaches for his razor, but Jim snatches it first and throws it through the doorframe. It hits the wall opposite and breaks into two pieces. Jim looks at Sebastian and smirks. Sebastian tackles Jim to the ground.

"You arsehole! That was my only razor and now I'm going to look like a caveman for our meeting!" He presses on Jim's collar bone, close to his neck.

"Get off me, you oaf! I'm necessary at the meeting!"

"Oh, now I'm not necessary? Well fine then. Maybe I'll just stay home today."

"I don't care, just get off me!"

Sebastian shimmies up Jim's body so he's sitting on his chest and his knees are on his shoulders. "I think I'll have a shave anyway. Don't know where I might go instead, who I might need to impress." He reaches onto the sink and grabs Jim's shaving crème and razor. He applies the crème to his face and begins shaving. He learned how to blindly shave in the military.

"Ugh, I hate you, Sebastian! Now let me up!" Jim tries to push Sebastian up but his arms are trapped on the floor. He reaches up with his head to bite Sebastian's thighs, but Sebastian's sitting too far back.

"You do not hate me, you love me."

"I do not! Not now! You're going to make me late!"

"It's so worth it, though."

"You're making me late for an important meeting because I broke your razor? I'll buy you a new damn razor!"

"That's ok, I like yours just fine."

"Get off me, you big, gigantic—" Jim's cut off because Sebastian bounces on his chest and knocks the wind out of him.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"You dick!" he shouts.

"I'll get off of you," Sebastian bounces again, "If you tell me you love me."

"No!"

"Then I guess you're completely missing your meeting."

"This is absurd, you're acting like a five-year-old!"

"Just tell me you love me, take back the hate, and I'll let you go."

"You're such an idiot, Sebastian!"

"Sorry, that wasn't an 'I love you,'. Try again."

"No, I won't. You've made me very angry!"

"One more try or I sit here all day."

"Fine! Fine," Jim breaths for a minute then says, "I love you, you big idiot! Now get the hell off me!"

Sebastian smiles and pulls back, then lays his body over Jim's, presses one hand to each side of Jim's head, and kisses him. Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian, then rolls Sebastian over so that Sebastian's on his back. Jim stands and resumes his place at the sink. Sebastian laughs and rolls onto his side, then bites the back of Jim's ankle. Jim's obviously not anticipating it so his foot jerks backwards and he accidentally kicks Sebastian in the face, just under his right eye, with his heel. It instantly swells.

Jim turns around to see Sebastian clutching his face. "Oh, Seb, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"You definitely meant to!" Sebastian shouts back.

"I did not, I promise!" He kneels next to Sebastian's head, takes Sebastian's head in his hands, and kisses his cheek and swell three times.

"Alright, alright! I thought you were going to be late?"

By now Jim is super late, so he cancels the meeting (can't do much without him, right?) and stays home pampering Sebastian all day. (Well, he puts frozen peas on his face and stays quiet while Sebastian watches the news; that's the same thing as pampering, right?) And later that afternoon, Jim calls a contractor to look at expanding their bathroom.

**_*Hey guys, it feels like forever since I've updated. It's been almost a week. But here's a thing about morning/bathroom routines where Mystrade lives in their own happy little world and Johnlock and Mormor are just giant buttheads. Also I've decided I hate the word 'ass' so I'm going to write 'arse' even though I'm a dumb American (I'm allowed to say dumb because I am one) and just be ok with it ok. This was a prompt by _TheFalling _and the only difference is the prompt talked about Greg stealing Mycroft's boxers (it wouldn't be an accident, Greg doesn't mind the silky smooth of personally made boxers so he frequently sneaks a pair). Aaaaaaaand I'm having a ton of Mormor feels so here's some lovin'. _**


	58. Chapter 58

**Couple 1**

Mycroft is jealous of Greg in many things. He's jealous that Greg's loved so often; he's jealous that Greg has the family he's always wished for; he's jealous that Greg's job isn't as demanding as his; and he's jealous of Greg's mindset of being far more laid back than Mycroft. Of these things there is one thing that is much more obvious than the others: Mycroft is jealous of Greg's wardrobe.

Yes, his clothes. What he wears. What occupies his closet space.

The first time Mycroft realized he is jealous of Greg's clothes was a few months into their relationship when Mycroft went to buy more dress shirts and he ended up buying three of his shirts and a 'Greg-shirt'. He didn't notice it was a Greg shirt until he got home and saw Greg wearing one similar.

Then Mycroft put it on the next day while he and Greg were at home having an evening in and he felt more laid back. Mycroft felt more comfortable than he does in his normal clothes.

The next day he wanted to feel the same, but he didn't have a clean shirt. So he stole Greg's. Of course, Greg didn't notice. Not that he'd tell Mycroft to take it off had he noticed. Greg enjoyed the more comfortable Mycroft and took advantage of the change.

Finally Greg ran out of shirts and noticed they were all in Mycroft's dirty clothes.

"Mycroft?" he asked walking into the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Why did you steal my shirts?"

He wasn't angry, that much Mycroft knew. He was curious.

"I just wanted to wear them," Mycroft said.

"Why? What's wrong with yours?"

"I like yours better. They're more comfortable, I feel better when I wear them."

Greg smiled. "I did notice that. You don't have to steal mine, though, I'll go get you some shirts of your own."

"I can get my own, I just like yours," Mycroft said. Greg smiled. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, though."

"I just don't understand," Greg said, "Why do you like my shirts more than yours?"

Mycroft shrugged. "You are so laid back in them. I thought if I wore them, I'd be more laid back and you'd enjoy me more. They are very comfortable, so it's not as though I'm changing to be something I'm not. But I just like the way you are and I want to be more like you."

Greg smiled and hugged Mycroft. "You don't have to be more like me. I understand how you feel but I love you any way you are," he said.

Mycroft smiled and hugged Greg back.

Now, they're years into their relationship and Mycroft's got his own style of clothing, but he's still jealous of Greg's clothes. Mostly now it's because Greg looks amazing in what he wears and Mycroft always feels as though he looks out of place, no matter how many times Greg tells him he looks great.

**Couple 2**

The suits are what make Sherlock Holmes his own person. They make him more superior than anyone in the room and make him confident. He doesn't put much thought into what he wears or what he looks like, most days he just throws something on and he's lucky all of his suits and shirts match no matter what. Of course he knows what he looks like in them; he knows he looks drop dead gorgeous (not his words…ok, yes they are), and he knows that _everyone _in

the room will look at him. He knows the men will fear or respect him more, and he knows the women (well, men too) will fancy him more, so he can get anyone to provide him with the information he needs. The point is, with the suit's he's

noticed without meaning to be, he's confident and vain, and he's beautiful.

That was the first thing John noticed about him, the suit. He noticed that the man was wearing a full suit and still working with chemicals. Sherlock didn't take his jacket off or put a lab coat on. That's because Sherlock's ready at any moment to use his the way he looks to get something he needs. He wears it and bosses Molly around, she does it. She likes the way he looks, she fears him. John liked the way he looked, John gave him his phone. John liked him and was curious about him.

Sherlock doesn't pay attention to what he wears, and that's fine. What is not fine is how much he pays attention to what John wears. John often leaves their bedroom and Sherlock asks, "You're wearing that?", so John goes back to change.

It really annoys John, especially when Sherlock wants John to wear something specific so he lays it out on their bed while John's in the shower. At first John fought it and put something else on, but after a while he gave in and wore whatever Sherlock put out for him.

"Why, Sherlock," John began, "Do you put so much thought into what I wear, but you've been wearing that shirt for two days?"

"Because I see you. I don't see myself."

"But I see you," John says.

"Then you can dress me."

"I don't want to dress you, you can do as you please. Just like I want to do."

"You obviously don't mind that much, John," Sherlock kisses his cheek and leaves the room.

A few days later, John gets out of the shower to see Sherlock standing over their bed, very deep in thought. He steps closer and sees that Sherlock's got three of John's jumpers on the bed trying to figure out which John should wear. John steps over to him and stands quietly, arms folded over his chest and towel hanging on his hips.

"Trouble?" John asks after five minutes.

"Can't…decide…" Sherlock says.

"Oh, for God's sakes, just pick one!" John says.

Sherlock glances at John. He skims down John's body. "Maybe you shouldn't get dressed at all today," he says, matter-of-factly.

"What? No! I have things to do."

"I just can't decide, John. Just wear the towel all day."

"I can't wear a towel out in public—"

"Why? I went to Buckingham Palace in—"

"And _that _was embarrassing, Sherlock—"

"Fine!" Sherlock says, "Wear this one." He picks one up and hands it to John.

John snatches it out of his hand and puts it on. "I don't know why you insist on picking out my clothes anyway."

"I already told you, I have to look at you. I want to be pleased."

John rolls his eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I've been told," Sherlock says, kissing John quickly and leaving.

John smiles and gets dressed.

They continue this little thing they have, Sherlock picking out John's clothes. While on a case, he's usually too distracted to pick out John's clothes, but he does notice if John wears the wrong thing.

**Couple 3**

Jim's been too distracted to do anything the past few days. He's been counting down, really, counting down until 'The Fall', as he keeps calling it. Sebastian's not paying much attention, he knows what's to happen and he's trying to prepare himself in his own way. He's not the one that's got to go to the roof, but his job is equally as important: kill the doctor, kill the landlady, kill the D.I.

The morning of June 16th arrives and Jim can't bring himself to do much. Sebastian gets him out of bed and into the kitchen so they can have breakfast together, the last time for a while. Sebastian makes him eggs, bacon and toast, all of which he can't make very well, but he does it anyway. It doesn't matter, though, because Jim hardly touches it.

They don't talk much. They haven't in the past few days. They eat in silence, then Sebastian silently gets Jim into the bathroom to shower. He takes his time getting Jim's clothes off. He pulls his t-shirt (Sebastian's t-shirt, actually) over his head. They're face to face, close enough to breath the same breaths, and when Sebastian pulls Jim's shirt off, he pauses and stares into Jim's face. Soft today. Soft and calm. Sebastian kisses him once and takes his own shirt off.

In the shower they hug. Sebastian pulls Jim close and wraps his arms around his neck. Jim holds his waist and they silently stand under the water holding each other. Sebastian pulls tighter and nestles his face in Jim's neck. Jim breathes deep and holds Sebastian tighter, resting his face on Sebastian's shoulder. It's the closest they've been in days, weeks maybe. Sebastian doesn't want to let go but he has to. He pulls back and holds Jim's head in his hands. He presses his forehead to Jim's and closes his eyes.

"I don't want—" Sebastian starts.

"Don't," Jim says, taking hold of Sebastian's wrists.

Sebastian nods and turns the shower off. He pulls Jim out and wraps a towel around him. They move into their bedroom and Jim sits on the bed.

"What do you want to wear?" Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. Sebastian chooses a suit and tie for him. He gets everything Jim needs and returns to their bed.

"Come on, love," Sebastian softly says. Jim stands and Sebastian pulls his underwear on. _Soft_, Sebastian notes. He suddenly feels angry. "Remind me why you can't come home after."

Jim rests his hands on Sebastian's shoulders. "I just can't. He'd know where I am," he says.

Sebastian stands and looks Jim face to face. Then he kisses Jim. His hands roam over Jim's body and rest on his hips. _Soft, _he thinks again. He wants to chart the way Jim feels, and his underwear is his softest. _Soft, _he remembers.

Jim pulls away. Sebastian picks up his under t-shirt and hoists Jim's arms up. He pulls it on and touches it, too. _Soft, _he thinks again. _Smells like laundry. Smells like me. Smells like him._

Shirt next. Sebastian pulls it over Jim's shoulders and straightens it up. He slowly buttons it. It feels weird to him to be dressing Jim, rather than undressing him, but as he buttoned he kept his composure. _I don't even know when he's coming back, _Sebastian thinks.

Now pants. His pulls them off the bed and kneels again for Jim to slip his feet through the leg holes. One then two. Not as soft as his underwear, but still soft. _How does he do that? Softness everywhere, _Sebastian thinks. He notes the color. _Dark, like Jim. _But Jim's not dark today, he's bright. Almost warm, giggly even. Sebastian doesn't understand. He stands and pulls Jim's pants up with him. He zips and buckles. Then his belt. He wraps his arms around Jim's waist as he loops the belt through. He looks in Jim's eyes. Jim gives a wicked smile. Sebastian momentarily remembers what's going on today. _Rough, _he thinks. _The belt is rough. Rough like Jim, like me, we're leather. Together. _

_Apart, _he thinks. _Apart, for how long? _

Once Jim's pants are on, his shirt's tucked in, and his belt's done, Sebastian goes back to the closet to get a tie. He stands touching each and every one. _Soft, _he continues to think. That's all he can think because that's all he wants to think. He wants to remember Jim's touch and his touch is soft with Sebastian.

He goes back to the bed and wraps the tie around his neck. He remembers when he learned how to tie a tie, it was a month after he began working for Jim. He had to YouTube it and that was really difficult to learn. He wanted to impress Jim, though, so he learned how to tie a tie.

"Come on, up," Sebastian says. Jim doesn't stand, though, so he kneels between Jim's knees and pull his neck down. He loops it around Jim's neck and begins to tie.

"I love you," Jim whispers.

"Do you?" Sebastian asks.

"Of course."

Sebastian finishes tying the tie. "Why won't you tell me, then?"

"Because I don't know," Jim rests his hands on Sebastian's shoulders. He puts his hand on Sebastian's neck and leans down to rest his forehead on Sebastian's.

"I just want to know," Sebastian closes his eyes and kisses Jim. When they break apart their noses rub together, they're so close that their noses are touching each other's cheekbone next to their nose.

"I will come back for you," Jim says.

"What if they come for me?"

"They can't," Jim says, "He'll be dead."

Sebastian swallows and closes his eyes harder, not wanting the moment to end. He kisses Jim again and clutches onto his clothes. He holds his tie and smoothes down his shirt.

"I love you, too," Sebastian says once they break apart. He stands and lets Jim stand, too. He slips Jim's jacket on and gets a scarf from the closet.

He walks Jim to the front door. Jim's leaving before him so Jim can get further ready. He didn't want to, but Sebastian agreed to let him go early with much protest. Once they get to the door, he grabs Jim's coat and slings it over his shoulders.

"I love you," he says one more time.

"I love you too."

"Please be careful. Don't screw it up please," Sebastian says.

"I won't."

They hug one more time and Jim leaves. Sebastian watches him walk down the hall, and once he's at the elevator Sebastian goes to the window to watch Jim get in a cab. Sebastian closes his eyes as Jim drives away. His stomach drops. _Soft, _he thinks.

_***Didn't expect Mormor to turn into this, but in case it's confusing it's Pre-The Fall. Like right before. **_

_***In case anyone's wondering, I think Greg and Mycroft wear these  .com /browse ? cid=5180&vid= 1&pid=139887 remove the spaces. Thank you for reading and being patient with my slow updates : ) **_


	59. Chapter 59

**Couple 1**

After a tough day, Greg likes to come home, take off his button up shirt, lay on the couch, maybe watch a little TV, and do nothing else. Over the past few months, Mycroft's learned the routine. He knows that if Greg's had a rough day, Greg doesn't make contact with him when he gets home, but if Greg has a good day he'll take the time to properly greet Mycroft.

Today he grunts when Mycroft says, "Good afternoon, love."

Mycroft follows him into their room and stands in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Are you ok?" Mycroft asks.

"Long day," Greg says, taking his clothes off to get in the shower.

Mycroft sits in the bathroom as Greg showers. The room fills with steam and the scent of Greg's body wash. It's strong with the heat, and it gets fragrant when Greg is hot. Mycroft loves it.

"What happened?" Mycroft asks.

"Oh, you know," Greg says. "The usual."

Mycroft rubs his face. "My brother?"

"Is there ever anything else?"

Mycroft shakes his head but doesn't say anything. He gets a sudden idea. "When you're out, Greg, come into the bedroom. I've got something for you."

Greg takes his time in the shower. He stays in the hot water until he begins sweating rather than being relaxed. He does as Mycroft told him and goes into the bedroom.

Waiting there for him is Mycroft, free of his shirt, and nothing else.

"What are you doing?" Greg asks.

"Come lay down, I want to make you feel better." He pats the bed behind him.

Greg looks suspicious, not the least bit excited, but sits next to Mycroft on the bed. "Look, I'm not really in the mood," he says.

"No, not like that. Just lay flat, on your stomach."

Greg does as he's told. He leaves the towel around his waist. Soon, he feels Mycroft's warm, slick hands meet his back. "What is that?" he asks.

"Oil."

"Are you giving me a back rub?"

"Yes, I am." Mycroft applies more pressure to his shoulders and rubs deeply. He uses his thumbs along Greg's spine.

It feels amazing to Greg. To his own shock, he moans once. Mycroft smiles. "Good, then?" he asks.

"Fantastic," Greg says. "Where did you learn how to do this?"

"It's not that hard, I just kind of figured it out. When Sherlock was younger, I used to rub his arms and legs because he had growing pains."

Greg smiles into his pillow. "How sweet, Mycroft."

"I know," Mycroft digs his fingers deeper into Greg's skin. He rolls his hands and pulls another groan from Greg. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Greg shifts so his head faces the other way. "He just bothered me today, that's all."

"What happened?"

Greg takes a deep breath. "Look, if you don't mind I don't really want to talk to you about—"

"It's ok, Greg. Just don't tell me you want to kill him or anything. Remember that you are in a vulnerable position."

Greg smiles again. "Ok," he thinks. "Well, it started when he got to the scene. Immediately he was spewing nonsense about the crew—"

"It's not nonsense if it's true—"

"Then he began insulting me—"

"Well—"

Greg quickly spins and throws Mycroft off his back. He sits up; his sticky, oily back sticks to the sheets.

"For once," he shouts, "Could you _please _be on my side?"

Mycroft sits up next to him. He wraps an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, ok?" He kisses Greg once. "Would you like me to continue?"

Greg nods and lays back down. Mycroft continues, so Greg does.

"Anyway, I know I should be used to it by now, but sometimes it gets so annoying, you know? Sometimes it just hurts. Last week he told me, and I quote, 'I don't know what my brother sees in you.' Can you believe that?"

"He says mean things when he's angry, that's how he copes."

"I know. But it does hurt."

"I know. Just ignore him."

"I try, I do. Most of the time I succeed but today was just the final straw."

"I'm sorry. He can be such an arse sometimes," Mycroft mostly mutters the last bit under his breath, but Greg hears.

He turns onto his back and Mycroft stays on his hips this time. "That was the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Greg says.

"Really? Telling you my brother is an arse?"

Greg smiles up at Mycroft. "Yes, you're finally on my side."

Mycroft smiles. He rubs his oily hands into Greg's chest. He leans down and kisses Greg.

"Thank you," Greg says.

"For?"

Greg wiggles under Mycroft. "My back rub," he says.

Mycroft laughs. "Anytime."

**Couple 2**

Sometimes they have late nights. There are criminals that won't just stand still, won't just let them take him or her into custody, won't just _stop running._

Tonight is one of those nights and sadly Sherlock is the fastest man on the police force (he's not even on the police force so that really says something). He keeps up with the guy and eventually does catch him, of course he does catch him in an alley after jumping off the second story of a building.

It's not a long jump, Sherlock's done it before, but he was younger then and all of his joints were properly functioning. This time, he only manages to stop the guy because once he lands, he immediately collapses over the guy because his legs buckle under him.

Lestrade and the next guy catch up to him and John practically carries him to a cab and supports his aching body all the way home.

"When we get inside," John whispers in his ear, "Get undressed and get in bed."

Sherlock lifts his head. "Why?"

"I'm going to make you feel better."

Sherlock does as he's told. He takes his clothes off and lays in bed, on his back. He drops his limbs in every direction on the bed, just wherever feels comfortable.

John comes into the room in just his underwear. Sherlock smiles.

"Makin' me feel better, huh?" He feels lightheaded and silly from the pain killer John gave him. He wiggles his lower body. His cock flops from side to side.

"That stuff works quick," John notes. He's shocked Sherlock's body even took it. He laughs at Sherlock's silly expression. He laughs again when Sherlock flops himself again.

"John, I've been high many, many times in my life—"

"I'm choosing to ignore that—"

"But never have I _ever _felt this fantastic."

"Yes, well," John grabs oil from the nightstand and drops a stream on his hand. "Let's just hope you feel the same tomorrow, 'k love?"

Sherlock's still on his back, so John starts with his shoulders and neck. He presses his hand into Sherlock's collar bone and presses his thumbs bellow the bone. He rubs the skin there. Sherlock stretches his neck underneath John so John will rub it, too.

"Your neck hurt?" John asks.

"Nothing hurts, John."

"Oh geez. I should not have given that pill to you."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmno," Sherlock moans, "It's brilliant." He smiles.

John smiles down at him. He moves to Sherlock's arms. He rubs his biceps and moves to his chest. He rubs Sherlock's skin there, then pinches the pale man's darker nipples.

"Ouch," Sherlock playfully says.

John chuckles. He moves down Sherlock's body, first with his forearms and wrists, then ribs and belly. He carefully runs his fingertips over Sherlock's stomach, just under his bellybutton.

"Tickles," Sherlock says. He laughs.

John pours another patch of oil on his hand, then happens the notice the oil is flavored. He gets an evil grin. He runs a finger down Sherlock's lower abdomen again, then Sherlock giggles. Then John runs the tip of his tongue back up Sherlock's belly and dips his tongue into Sherlock's bellybutton. Sherlock squirms underneath him. He moans again. He wants to throw his hands onto the back of John's head, but he feels too numb.

"Do that again," Sherlock whispers.

John smiles and pulls away from Sherlock. He settles himself between the man's long legs. "Not yet," he says. He rubs the freshly squeezed oil onto his other hand, then rubs Sherlock's left thigh.

Sherlock hisses.

"What?" John asks. He briefly pauses.

"Aches."

"Sorry baby," John rubs lighter. "It'll hurt tomorrow."

Sherlock's head rolls to the side and he harshly sighs. Unexpectedly, he feels John's lips touch the inside of his thigh. He lightly spreads his thighs.

John smiles. He finishes with the left thigh, then moves to Sherlock's right. Sherlock hisses again, but John presses on. He kisses that thigh too. He sees Sherlock smile.

Next he rubs Sherlock's knees. He knows those will hurt Sherlock most tomorrow, Sherlock's got knee problems anyway. There's not much he can do but rub Sherlock. Then he rubs Sherlock's shins, calves, ankles, feet, toes. He takes his time, and when he's finished he licks up Sherlock's right leg, to his hip, then stomach, then chest. He lays over Sherlock and tongues the man's mouth open. He finds Sherlock's hands and takes Sherlock's in his own. Sherlock squeezes when John bites his bottom lip.

"You want to turn over so I can get your backside?" John asks.

Sherlock gets a wide grin. "I think I've got something that needs rubbing in front." He chuckles as he slowly rolls his hips into John's.

John laughs, moans a little, lets his eyes flutter back, but stops before he gets ahead. "No," he stops Sherlock. "I need to rub your back."

Sherlock groans in need and pushes John off him. He hisses when his back stings. "Fine," he says. He rolls onto his front and lets John press his digits into his back. John fingers his spine; he counts the bumps. "You need to eat more, love," John says. His hands move their way down Sherlock's body, passing what he thinks is the important bit and moving straight to the back of Sherlock's thighs, then down to his calves. When he finishes he lays over Sherlock again and presses kiss after kiss into his neck and shoulders. "Ok," John whispers into Sherlock's ear, "Turn over."

The next morning Sherlock wakes and can't even move his body aches so bad. John decides to rub him again, this time without giving him a pain killer, so Sherlock moans and groans in pain the whole time. Three times he punches John in the arm, once he almost hits his jaw, and once he hits John's chest.

Needless to say, that is the last time Sherlock jumped off a building. However, that is not the last time John uses his massage skills.

**Couple 3**

Jim gets cranky and Sebastian doesn't like it. No, no, Sebastian doesn't like when _other people _make Jim angry. If Sebastian himself does it, Sebastian feels no remorse, but if it's someone else that's winding Jim up, Sebastian can't stand it.

One day Jim's so upset that he's yelling at Sebastian. Sebastian obviously does not like being yelled at, but sometimes he can sit back and let Jim rant.

"That motherfucking—" Jim walks into the kitchen, Sebastian's in the living room. He hasn't left his post leaning against the wall in a few minutes. "—God damn—" Jim slams a glass and walks back into the living room. "—son of a bitch—" Jim walks over to Sebastian and throws his hands in the air. "—he was a wanker, that's what he was—"

"I know—"

"And I hate him, I _hate _him, Sebastian. Can you kill him? Would you kill him for me? Because I _hate _him, Sebastian!"

Sebastian can tell Jim's about to punch the wall, so he grabs Jim's shoulders and pulls him close. He runs a hand through the back of Jim's hair and rubs the back of his head. Suddenly he gets the idea. "Hey, you want a massage?"

Jim lifts his head off Sebastian's shoulder. "What?"

"I can give you a massage."

Jim looks confused, but he agrees. Sebastian leads him into their bedroom and instructs Jim to get undressed. Sebastian does the same and gets the oil. He tells Jim to lay on the bed, facedown, so Jim does.

Something that always shocks Jim about his relationship with Sebastian is that he trusts Sebastian no matter what. He feels safe and knows Sebastian will never hurt him, that's why when Sebastian says, "Get on the bed," Jim doesn't question it. He just does it.

Sebastian straddles Jim and pours oil onto his hand. It smells good, both Jim and Sebastian think. Sebastian rubs his hands into Jim's back. "How's that?" he asks.

"Nice," Jim says. "Where did you learn to give massages?"

"I dated a massage therapist once."

"Really?" Jim asks, curious.

"No," Sebastian chuckles. "She was a stripper. She just had really soft hands."

Jim reaches behind him and pinches Sebastian's thigh. Sebastian yelps and jumps, then pushes his whole fist into Jim's back.

"Ouch!" Jim shouts.

Sebastian laughs. He continues gently rubbing Jim's back. "How's that?" he asks.

"Nice," Jim says.

"Good."

Sebastian rubs in silence, but Jim begins to ramble. "Why aren't there decent people in this world, Seb?"

Sebastian laughs. "As someone that killed a man yesterday, I'm not sure I'm one to answer that question."

"Don't be absurd," Jim says. "I've told you a thousand times that we _help _people. But sometimes the people we help need to be shot, too. Like that guy today, I swear he had a death wish."

"What did he say?"

"He was just treating me like I had no idea what I was doing. He was acting like he was better than me, like he was doing me a favor. Yeah, right. I swear, babe—" Sebastian smiled, "—they do it to torture us sometimes. Remember that guy last week that changed his damn mind? What a load of crap."

"I know."

"They don't get it. We didn't even get that paycheck."

"I know, and I wanted a new gun."

"I'll buy you one, baby."

Sebastian smiled again. Two terms of endearment in less than three minutes, the massage was working. He decided that was enough and laid next to Jim, on his stomach too and facing Jim. He grabbed Jim's hand.

"Thank you," Jim says, smiling.

"What for?"

"For dating a stripper with soft hands."

Sebastian smiles. "My pleasure," he says, then winks.

Jim attacks him and Sebastian rolls onto his back, letting Jim land on top of him.

The massages continue, actually, because after that there was no way in hell Jim would ever let him get away with having that skill.

_*****_**TheFalling **_**(great prompts, really) suggested getting massages from each other so this came. I'm think about expanding the Johnlock part and making it even more sexy than it is. Sorry about that, btw. But, anyway, yeah I'm also thinking of starting maybe a whole new thing about just sexytimes. Because I have a lot of ideas and time on my hands. I don't know, you guys should definitely tell me if that's a good idea or not. Or if I should just put them in this? I don't know. Anyway, please tell me what you think! : ) **_


	60. Chapter 60

**Couple 1**

They like quiet nights in. Both of them. It's not one sided, this deal. They both decided a long time ago that once a week, one would be in charge of dinner. _Making _dinner.

Tonight is Greg's turn and he wants romance. He makes spaghetti with homemade meatballs, a salad to start, and has two bottles of wine ready. For dessert he wants to make something, but the lady at the store suggest he heat up some chocolate and have fondue, so Greg thinks it's a great idea. He buys bananas, strawberries, marshmallows, and mini-brownies to dip in the chocolate.

Greg's not that great at cooking, remember? Sure he's gotten better but he still does not make very good spaghetti. He hangs his head when he tastes it. The noodles are too raw, the sauce doesn't taste right, at least the meatballs look ok (they're not, and luckily he doesn't taste it).

Mycroft walks in while he's tasting the sauce.

"What'd you make today?" Mycroft asks, wrapping an arm around Greg's waist and resting his chin on Greg's shoulder.

"It's shit," he says. "It was supposed to be spaghetti and meatballs but it turned out raw noodles and gross sauce."

"I appreciate the attempt," Mycroft says.

"It's ok," Greg says. "But hey, if you're hungry I've got salad."

Mycroft squints at Greg. "Have you been talking to Sherlock?"

Greg laughs. "No, no! It was for the dinner."

Mycroft chuckles and kisses Greg. They sit at the table and eat their salad and drink their wine.

After dinner, Greg stands and rinses the plates. "Would you like dessert?" he asks.

"Yes, I would. What have we got?"

"I've got chocolate for us to melt and stuff to dip in it."

"Where'd you come up with that idea?" Mycroft asks.

"Just something that came to me."

Greg pours the chocolate squares into the pot and lets them heat up while he cuts the fruits and gets the other things ready. He sets them on a plate and if finished by the time the chocolate is finished.

"Have you ever had chocolate fondue?" Greg asks.

"I've had chocolate covered strawberries before."

"Where have _you _ever had chocolate covered strawberries?"

"I had them on holiday with one of my old boyfriends. He fed them to me while we were on a beach in Spain. Nude."

Greg gapes at him. "Are you serious?"

"No!" Mycroft says, laughing. "If there was chocolate drizzled on them, that's the only way Sherlock would eat strawberries."

"That's a relief," Greg says.

"How? Were you jealous?"

"Jealous? No. I just wouldn't expect you to do something like that."

"Why is that?"

"Because…you're…you just wouldn't do anything like that."

"Am I boring, Greg?"

"You said it, not me."

Mycroft smiles, dips his finger in the warm chocolate, and wipes his finger on Greg's nose. Greg laughs and tries to jerk away but Mycroft catches him, leaving a streak of chocolate on his cheek. Greg returns by smearing chocolate on Mycroft's jaw line and above his top lip. They laugh and soon they're chasing each other through the kitchen, fingers and spoon fulls of chocolate in hand. At one point they lose their shirts and chase each other while shirtless, causing chocolate to get on backs and chests.

Greg catches Mycroft and as Mycroft holds the spoon up to smear on Greg's chest, Greg grabs his wrists and fights back.

"Mycroft," Greg laughs, "Stop! Stop!"

"Not until you stop first!"

Greg pushes Mycroft back into a wall and presses his lips to Mycroft's. He licks and nips at the chocolate on Mycroft's face and slowly their muscles relax and they fall into each other.

The chocolate from their bodies was not difficult to clean off (especially with tongues), but the dry chocolate from the rug, cabinets, table, and refrigerator were not to easy to get off. Next time they have safe fondue eating, and the bodies involved are consensual.

**Couple 2**

John does get bored. Pretty often, actually. Sherlock's been on a case for a few days and John's positive he hasn't eaten, so since he's bored, John's decided to bake for Sherlock. He isn't cooking because Sherlock won't just eat what he makes, so he's baking so that Sherlock _will _eat it because Sherlock is the equivalent of an infant with new taste buds; he loves sweets.

John gets his ingredients and decides to use his grandmother's recipe for chocolate chip. He's always loved those cookie and he's sure Sherlock will, too. He gets to work and soon he has a dozen ready for Sherlock right on time for Sherlock to get home.

"Hey love, in here," John calls into the living room.

Sherlock removes his coat and scarf and heads to the kitchen. "I haven't got much time," he says. "I'm waiting for the results at from lab."

"That's ok, you're just in time for a cookie."

"A cookie? You made this?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

John looks at Sherlock. Sherlock's right behind him, hand on John's opposite shoulder looking over his shoulder at the cookies. John smiles and leans up to kiss Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock doesn't pull away like he usually does while on a case, must not be that tough a case. He looks at John and smiles down at him.

"You want a cookie?" John asks, holding a fresh cookie up.

"Hmm," Sherlock says. He doesn't take it.

"Come on," John holds it up higher. "You want one."

"Hmmm," Sherlock says again. "Ok." He takes the cookie and takes a bite while exiting the kitchen to go to the bedroom. "I've got to clean up before I go back," he announces.

John hears the shower turn on. He hums while placing more cookie dough in the oven and Sherlock showers. The shower turns off in less than five minutes and he hears Sherlock brush his teeth. Sherlock gets dressed and returns to the kitchen.

"Your cookie was great, John," he says.

"Want another?"

"No thanks."

Sherlock goes to the living room to send some emails. John remains in the kitchen and tends to his cookies.

When he gets the last batch into the oven, he heads to the restroom. Sherlock knocks on the door not seconds later and announces he has to go. John tries to hurry but when he gets out, Sherlock's gone. John sighs and gets his cookies out of the oven. As he takes them off the sheet, he notices four of his already made cookies are gone. John smiles. His plan worked.

**Couple 3**

"Hey," Jim kicks Sebastian's hip from his side of the bed. "Get up. You need to go get Logan."

"What? You do it."

"Sienna's expecting you. She has stuff to talk about remember?"

"Mmmm," Sebastian whines. "Just tell her to email me."

Jim kicks him in the side. Hard.

"Fine!" Sebastian shouts. He gets up and gets dressed, then heads to Sienna's to pick up Logan.

"Uncle Seb!" he shouts, then practically tackles Sebastian.

"Hey, how's it goin', bud?" Sebastian lifts Logan into his arms. "You're getting big."

"I've grown two inches!"

"Awesome!" Sebastian puts Logan down and goes to the kitchen where Sienna is finishing breakfast. She stands as he enters and goes to the sink, passing him and kissing his cheek. "Hey, sister," he says.

"Hey, thanks for keeping him today. Sitter's on holiday and I can't take the day off."

"No problem. What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Oh, right," Sienna rushes around cleaning up and talks to Sebastian for what seems like forever about, as far as Sebastian's concerned, nothing. "Alright," Sienna finally says, "I'm late. See you later."

Sebastian and Logan decide to walk to Sebastian's instead of get a cab. They walk in silence while Logan skips over the cracks in the sidewalk.

They get back to Sebastian's and Jim's gone. Sebastian sighs.

"You look sad, Uncle," Logan says.

"Do I?"

"Yes. Do you miss Uncle Jim?"

"Yeah," he says, "Kind of."

Logan takes Sebastian's hand. "It's ok, we'll still have fun, right?"

"Yes, of course. What do you want to do?"

For a while they sit around and watch TV. The show they're watching ends and Sebastian turns the TV off. He sits back on the couch and Logan rests his legs on Sebastian's.

"Well?" Sebastian asks. "What now?"

"I dunno," Logan pauses and thinks. "I have an idea, let's make something!"

"Like what?"

"I dunno, Sienna likes to bake things though."

"You want to bake something?"

"Yeah!"

"Ok then." Sebastian goes to the computer and goes to a recipes website. He goes through the list and looks at ingredients he has. "How about chocolate?" he asks. Logan nods so quickly his head might pop off. Sebastian laughs. He carries Logan to the kitchen and sits him on the counter. He gets the ingredients out. He measures and lets Logan pour everything in.

"Do you think Uncle Jim will like this?" Logan asks.

"I'm not sure. He's not one for sweets. He might like it, though. Since you made it."

"You made it too. Doesn't he like things you make for him?"

"Well," Sebastian thinks. "I don't really make him anything."

"You don't? Sienna makes my dad stuff all the time."

"So I should make Uncle Jim stuff?"

Logan nods.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he doesn't have a wife, but you can be."

"You think wives should make husbands things?"

"I dunno. My dad makes Sienna things, too."

"That's good. Husbands and wives should take turns making things for each other, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Logan says. He's confused. "But what about you and Uncle Jim? You don't have wives."

"No, we don't. What do you think we should do about that?"

"You should be husbands because husbands can make stuff too, like my dad."

Sebastian smiles. "You think Uncle Jim and I should be husbands?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"I don't know," Sebastian says.

"But you love him."

"Yes I do."

"And he loves you."

"Yes he does."

"So you should just be husbands."

"Maybe one day," Sebastian says. He pours all the ingredients together and whisks it to one. Sebastian gets graham crackers for them to eat the chocolate.

"This is good, Uncle," Logan says.

Sebastian smiles. "Thanks man. You made it, though."

"I'm good at making things. Maybe one day I'll be a good husband like you," he says.

Sebastian smiles wider. Just then he hears Jim come through the door.

"Uncle Jim!" Logan shouts.

Jim comes into the kitchen and takes Logan in his arms. They hug and Logan pulls Jim's face to his. He whispers in Jim's ear.

"Oh really?" Jim asks. He smirks and looks at Sebastian, then smiles.

"What did he just tell you?" Sebastian asks.

"Nothing, nothing!" Jim and Logan both giggle. He puts Logan back on the counter and dips his fingers in the chocolate.

Later that night, in bed, Sebastian asks Jim what Logan said. Jim laughs and turns over, away from Sebastian. Sebastian cuddles to his back and pulls Jim close.

"Come on," he says. "Tell me!" He bites at Jim's ear.

Jim pulls Sebastian's arm tighter around him. "He told me to marry you," Jim says.

"Did he?"

"Yup."

"Why would he say that?"

"He told me you'd make a good husband."

Sebastian smiles and tugs Jim as close as possible. He kisses the nape of Jim's neck. "Do you think he was right?" Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. "You do know how to make some tasty chocolate."

Sebastian laughs. They don't say anything else, instead they fall asleep.

**_*_TheFalling _(as usual!) suggested making chocolate and it turned into fondue, making sweets, and Jim and Seb having a heart to heart with their nephew. They're so cute aren't they? _**

**_*Also, if anyone hasn't noticed, I made a new story thread called _The Sex of Six Different Men _and it's exactly what it sounds like. If there are any specific chapters from this that anyone wants to see put into that, just let me know. : )_**


	61. Chapter 61

**Couple 1**

Greg doesn't really consider the relationship he has with his ex-wife a particularly good one, that's why getting an invite to her wedding was such a shock.

"She just wants the girls to have a normal upbringing, where mommy and daddy don't hate each other," Greg tries to explain.

"Right. She's trying to rub it in, that's what she's doing," Mycroft retorts.

Greg looks confused. "Rub what in?"

"To her, getting remarried signifies that she's in a healthy relationship and that you are not, so she's won."

"Won what? It's not a—"

"Yes, it is."

Greg thinks that over while trying to decide if he wants to go to Australia to attend his ex's wedding. At first he thinks, no of course not. But after one night of super, duper, extreme, _wow _passionate love making, Greg knows he's won, so he opts to attend the wedding.

A few months later they go to Australia, even though at that point they're not every excited about it. Greg's excited to see the girls, of course, but to attend the wedding? Not so much. It's too late to decline now, though, so they try to make the best of it.

They get to the wedding and first find the girls. Greg knows his ex-mother-in-law and father-in-law will not be excited to see him, so he avoids them for as long as possible.

He and Mycroft busy themselves in the back of the lobby of the ballroom. They get glasses of wine and make conversation with each other.

"So, how's the trip for you so far?" Greg asks.

"Planes, hotel, whole other side of the world," Mycroft makes a face. "Not my cup of tea."

"I don't know, the plane ride was quite pleasant."

"Yes, because I got the isle seat and you got the seat next to the tan gymnast."

"Now that's not the only reason—"

"Greg, you scared the boy."

Greg chuckles. "I thought you didn't get jealous."

"Jealous? No. Concerned, yes. He was about twenty-two years old."

"What? My ex-wife can marry a twenty-five year old _surfer_ from Sydney, but I can't talk to a kid on the plane?"

"Not if I have any say," Mycroft murmurs into his glass.

Greg pokes his side. "You were jealous."

Mycroft lightly smiles at Greg. "Anyway, the trip hasn't been a total waste. The beach yesterday with the girls was fun. And tomorrow we're taking them back to London, aren't we?"

Greg smiles very wide. "Yes, yes we are! I'm excited, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course. We will have a lot of fun."

After a while, Greg's ex-in-laws do find him and greet him and give him and Mycroft judgmental looks. Greg just rests his hand on the small of Mycroft's back and smiles at everyone that looks their way. Greg's ex-sister-in-law makes her way to them and actually genuinely is interested in how he's doing and who Mycroft is. Greg's always gotten along with her and he knows she means well.

Finally they were instructed to take their seats, so Greg and Mycroft sat in the very back. They want to draw the least amount of attention, and they manage to do so all through the ceremony. They make small talk all through the ceremony, though.

"Lovely weather we're having," Greg says.

"Oh, yes. Very beautiful down here."

"It is winter, you know."

"Yes. Great change."

"We needed a little vacation."

"I wouldn't call this vacation."

"Come on. We made a sandcastle. We used breakfast as a sex aid. What more could you ask for in a vacation?"

Mycroft laughs. "Maybe to not attend your ex-wife's wedding."

"Oh, Mycroft," Greg says. "If you didn't want to come you didn't have to."

"And leave you to the wolves? Unlikely."

Greg smiles and places a hand on Mycroft's knee. "You look very nice, dear."

"Thank you. You look quite dashing."

"Mmm," Greg hums a thanks. "It's fortunate we've got one more night alone with these marvelous suits."

"I wear suits all the time," Mycroft says.

"Not all black suits."

Mycroft smiles. "You like this, then?"

"Oh yes."

"You'll have to take advantage of the situation, then."

Greg doesn't reply, instead he gets lost in his own thoughts. He thinks about how is ex is up there reciting vows to someone she'll probably love for another year or so, and he's sitting in the crowd with someone he loves more than anyone he's ever loved; and marriage for them isn't an option. He's not opposed to the idea anymore. For a while he's wanted to ask, but he knows Mycroft will say no. He just knows it.

"Are you ok?" Mycroft asks.

"Huh? Yeah. Fine."

After the ceremony they wait around outside while the ballroom is transformed from ceremony to dinner dress. Greg is quiet.

"You're being quiet."

"I'm not being quiet," Greg says. He dips his finger in his drink. He's not sure why.

"What are you thinking about?"

Greg shrugs. "I dunno."

"Yes you do. Even I know what you're thinking about, Greg."

"Of course you do."

"I'm thinking about the same thing," Mycroft says. Greg looks up. "I'm just…I'm still not sure how I feel about it. About marriage."

"I know," Greg shifts uncomfortably. "It's not like we have to tomorrow or anything, I'd just like the option to be there."

"The option is there Greg," he says. "It's just…frightening. You know that. How did you know you wanted to marry Anne all those years ago?"

"I loved her. I wanted to be with her forever."

"Do you feel those things about me."

"No," Greg says. He sets his glass down and takes Mycroft's hand. "I feel more than that. I feel like being inside you, of you being inside me. I feel like being one, I feel like being whole. I've never felt this," Greg loses words for what he is trying to convey. "This, this, this enormous amount of _anything _for _anybody. _It's extremely damn terrifying, but it's so great at the same time. I love you, Mycroft. And I would never want to do anything to screw it up. If it means we never get married, so be it."

Mycroft stands shocked through the entire speech. "Well, had I known we were making grand pronouncements today, I'd have written my own."

"Look, Mycroft, you don't have t—"

"Don't be silly Greg. All I can say in reply is…" Mycroft's stomach turns and he takes Greg's other hand. "I will…one day."

Greg looks confused. "Will what?"

Mycroft smiles and lets go of Greg's hands. He takes the last swig of his wine and says, "Oh Greg, do keep up."

Greg doesn't have time to question anything because his daughters come running at them and attack them with hugs, then they're invited to take their seats in the ballroom once more.

After dinner they dance, and after dancing they return to their hotel to make full use of their handsome attire. The next day they take the girls back to London and Greg thanks everything in the universe for his happy little family.

**Couple 2**

Weddings obviously aren't Sherlock's thing. When they got the invite for Harry and Clara's re-nuptials, Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. He doesn't get along with Harry (more so since they got in a fight last year), of course he doesn't want to attend her second wedding to the same girl.

However, that was weeks ago and since then John's had a chance to persuade his love.

"I don't know why I even have to go," Sherlock pouts. He hands John his tie to let him tie it.

"It's for my sister-"

"I don't even like her-"

"It's for me," John says. "You look great, I look great; it'll be fun. I promise."

Sherlock takes his tie from John and loops it around his neck. "Not only is it a wedding, but it's a gay wedding."

"Wait," John swivels to look at Sherlock. "What?"

"It's a lesbian wedding," Sherlock continues. "They're the worst. They're mean and rude and loud and obnoxious-"

"You all have a lot in common-"

"I don't even want to go to my own gay wedding-"

John pauses and looks at Sherlock. He smiles. "Did you just admit that one day you'll get married?"

Sherlock playfully glares at John. "No, I-"

"You did, didn't you?"

Sherlock smiles. "I never said it'd to be to you."

John scowls. Then he smiles. "Oh right," he says, "Good luck trying to find another bloke that would rather be with you than a woman."

This time Sherlock glares for real. "Fair enough. We're going to be late," Sherlock looks at John fixing his hair in the mirror about the fireplace. "Come on, Mr. Model. There's nobody to impress there."

They go to the restaurant the wedding is to be held. John asked over and over why they chose a restaurant to get married in, but Harry and her fiance, aren't the most conventional people, so he let it go. They went to the restaurant and met Harry there.

"Johnny!" Harry shouts as John came into the restaurant.

"Loud," Sherlock murmurs.

"Johnny, so glad you could make it."

"Hello, Harry," John says, quieter. She grabs his shoulders and pulls him in to kiss his cheek. John notes that luckily she doesn't smell like alcohol. Yet.

Harry pulls away smiling, then glances at Sherlock and frowns. "Hey Sherlock," she says, unenthusiastically. "Couldn't find another date, John?"

"Rude," Sherlock whispers to John. John elbows him.

"What about the handsome one, what's his name? This one's brother?" Harry asks.

"Mean," Sherlock says out loud.

Suddenly from the corner of the restaurant, John and Sherlock hears a shrieking scream of laughter accompanied with, "John! Sherlock!" It's Harry's fiance, a.k.a. Harry's ex-wife Clara. She likes the pair of them, but she annoys Sherlock.

"Ahh," he says, "And there's obnoxious."

John turns to Sherlock. "Will you stop, please?" he asks on time for Clara to attack John with a hug.

John hugs back and then lets her go and she hugs Sherlock. Then she holds on to Harry's arm and leans on Harry. John can tell she's had a few.

"Can you believe it!" Clara asks. "I'm gettin' hitched! Again!"

"I certainly cannot," Sherlock says. John elbows him.

"It's wonderful," John says. He gives a fake smile. Sherlock can tell it's fake because of how many times he's heard John say it's a bad idea.

Sherlock doesn't say anything and they take their seats near the front of the crowd of chairs. John sits in the isle because he's supposed to walk with Harry down the isle. Not that he really wants to, but him and Harry are all the other has, so he agreed a few weeks ago.

"Can I go home now? I made an appearance, it's not like they'd notice my absence," Sherlock says. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"No, Sherlock," John takes his hand and pulls it to his lap. He rests Sherlock's hand there and strokes it with his fingertips.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks.

"Trying to make you relax, love."

Sherlock shifts again and John squeezes his hand.

Guests begin to arrive pretty soon the room is filled with many different couples, not all women and not all gay. Each time a heterosexual couple enters the room, John gives Sherlock the 'told-you-so' look. Sherlock gives the same look and proves John wrong.

"Brother and sister," he says about one. "Beard," he says about another. "Divorced," he says about one. "Showed up together because they're both friends of Harry and Clara and both got invited."

John laughs and smiles at each deduction Sherlock gave. When a waiter comes through with champagne, John takes a glass. Sherlock gives a disgusted face so John doesn't give him any.

Two and a half glasses of champagne later, John gets up to meet Harry. She hugs him and thanks him, then he walks her down the isle. The whole time he thought about how Clara doesn't deserve this again. Sure, Harry's just under a year sober and everything's 'fine' now, but nothing will ever really be 'fine' with Harry. And Clara is…different. John's known since he met her. They met three weeks before Harry met her; Clara and John were actually dating. Well, they went on four dates. On the fourth, Harry ran into them and John introduced them, and suddenly Harry was dating Clara and he was heading to war. While he was gone, they got married the first time, and by the time he got back they were divorcing (John tried not to apply 'for the first time,' here in hopes that there isn't a second divorce for them).

John sits next to Sherlock and pulls Sherlock's hand onto his lap again.

Somewhere through the ceremony, Sherlock leans over to John and says, "You should stop feeling responsible for their problems."

John gapes at Sherlock. "How do you—"

"Please John, the difficult mysteries are the most obvious."

"Yeah, but…" John trails off, but continues after a few silent minutes. "I still feel like it's my fault you know? I introduced them, I wasn't here while they were going through this the first time."

"It's not your problem, John. It's not your duty to fix everyone and make sure they're living their lives correctly," Sherlock pauses because the people the row next to them glare. "I know you still—"

"I don't still like her," John quickly says.

"I was going to say 'care about her', but with that answer—"

"No, Sherlock," he squeezes the hand around Sherlock's.

"Don't worry, John. I'm not. I know you've liked others in your life and that you wouldn't act on feelings you have now. I'm just saying, infatuation, caring, whatever you call it, it's still there and you don't think it's fair that someone you feel for has a bad relationship with their partner."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be defensive. I just don't want you to get any ideas."

"No worries, John," Sherlock lifts his arm to place it around John. "However, the man in the last row, third seat over might have different standards of someone in a relationship, especially to you, so steer clear of him or I will have to—"

"Sssssshhhh!" the lady behind them hisses.

After the ceremony they have dinner at the same restaurant. It's nice, delicious, and after two glasses of wine, John's loves it.

"I'm so happy for you guys," he repeats over and over to Clara. "And I'm so glad I don't—" John gets pulled away by Sherlock before he can say, 'have feelings for you anymore,'. "Oh love, you got a glass of wine!"

"No, this is the one I just got out of your hand."

"Oh, damn," John reaches for his glass. "I wanted you to be fun tonight."

"You want me to be fun?" Sherlock sits John in his seat at their table. "Am I not fun now?"

"Well no, you're a bit dry."

"Dry?"

"Yeah, dry. Like boring."

"I, John Watson, am never boring."

"No, I'm John Watson."

Sherlock laughs. He calls the waiter over and orders two glasses of wine. "Happy?" he asks John.

"Immensely," John replies.

They drink their wine, and even though Sherlock doesn't feel the least bit drunk, he does feel more loose and not 'dry'. He stands and offers a hand out to John.

"What d'ya want me to do with that?" John asks.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I want you to take it and dance with me before I change my mind."

John's eyes grow large and he quickly stands before giving it any more thought. He takes Sherlock's hand and lets Sherlock lead him to the dancefloor. Almost every couple is dancing, even the brother and sister (each with different men) and Harry and Clara in the center.

"So what's your verdict?" John asks.

"My verdict?"

"On this," John looks around the room. "On weddings."

Sherlock shrugs. "They're not so bad."

"What about…" John looks up at Sherlock. "For you?"

Sherlock looks down at John. His face cracks into a chuckling smile and he looks away. "Are you proposing?"

John smiles. "No. Just want to know what you'd say before I make a fool of myself one day."

Sherlock's face makes the shy smile it had the night John shot the cabbie. The one right before he asked John to dinner.

"What if I propose first?" he asks.

John actually laughs. "I'd be caught off guard, but I'd say yes."

"Would you?"

"I probably would. Especially in this state."

"John," Sherlock says. "You cannot be drunk right now."

"I've had two glasses of champagne and nearly three glasses of wine. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow. "Want to have a quickie in the men's loo?"

John waits for Sherlock's bluff. Finally he answers, "Hell yeah."

Sherlock pulls John through the crowd and leads him straight to the bathroom. He doesn't act shy, it's not like any other couple here doesn't utilize the same-sex advantage of restroom shags.

The next day, both think about discussions from the night before. John thinks about Clara, Sherlock thinks about Clara. John thinks about marriage, Sherlock thinks about marriage. John thinks about their bathroom fling, Sherlock…well actually Sherlock doesn't stop thinking about marriage. The idea does seem appealing to him.

They don't talk about marriage again for a few months, but that itself is a whole different story.

_***So this chapter began to get long and I need to go to bed, but Couple 3 will definitely be up tomorrow. This one was an idea by me and it was weddings. I don't really think lesbians are anything the way Sherlock described either, so don't worry. I just figured he would be someone that doesn't get along with women that don't even like men. I hope you all enjoy! **_


	62. Chapter 62

**Couple 3**

A month or so ago Sebastian received the invitation to his cousin Barry's wedding. He hasn't spoken to Barry since before he went to war, but not in a bad way or anything. It's not like they had a huge falling out. Well, not Sebastian exactly. Sebastian's father had four brothers and one sister, but he wasn't a very good guy so his whole family kind of shut him out. Sebastian's aunt and uncle tried to take him and Sienna when his father got arrested once, but Sebastian's mother stepped up from the shadows and kept her kids. That's when the whole family shut his small kin out, and they never really turned back. There were birthday cards, phone calls, holiday gifts, but not much contact.

So the invite from Barry was a shock when Sebastian opened it. There was a picture of Barry and his fiancé, Karen, with the card and an RSVP card. He called Sienna.

"Yes, I got one," Sienna says instead of 'hello?'.

"Are you going to go?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Not sure. We haven't seen them in—"

"Like a thousand years, I know. But they don't hate us. And since Dad's dead now," Sienna has no problem with their father's death, "It should be all good. Damn I wish Barry'd have gotten married sooner. We could have reunited years ago."

Sebastian laughed. "Ok. Yeah. Are you taking the husband and kid?"

"Yes, I'm taking the husband and kid. Hang on, the kid wants to talk to you."

After Sebastian hung up with Logan he wrote on the card that two will be attending, and set it in the mail pile to send tomorrow.

Now, a little over four weeks later, Sebastian's looking up Youtube videos to tie his bowtie and epically failing at his attempts to tie it.

"Why do I have to go again?" Jim asks, walking into the office and tying his tie.

"Because, like it or not, you are my plus one."

"Had I known that was in the job description—"

"Yeah, right. Ugggggh," Sebastian sighs in frustration, "Help me do this."

"Why are you wearing a bowtie anyway?"

"First, it's a fancy wedding. Second, if we both wear ties we match too much. Third, I want to make a good impression."

"Oh, because of your father-thing?"

"Yes. I want them to see that I've done something with my life."

"Are you going to tell your family that I pay you to kill people?"

Sebastian laughs. "Yes. That's it."

Jim pulls the bowtie tight and kisses Sebastian's lips.

They get to the wedding half an hour early. They wait in the parking lot for Sienna; she was right behind them and they wanted to walk in together. When she arrives they go to her car and get Logan out.

"Where's the husband?" Sebastian asks.

"Oh, he has a conference call in, like, half an hour. He couldn't come."

"Bummer," Sebastian says. "But you've got a lovely little date right here," he picks Logan up and tickles his stomach.

"I don't know, Seb, maybe I'll just steal yours," Sienna pulls Jim's tie so he steps towards her. She hugs him and gives him a greeting kiss on the cheek.

They walk down a small hill to the valley where the wedding is. It's beautiful. It's outdoors, but there are poles with lights strung to each above the guests. The decorations are fantastic; Sienna wishes she had seen this wedding before hers.

Right when they arrive where the chairs are set up, they hear a woman coming towards them calling their names. "Sebastian! Sienna! Is that you!"

Sebastian turns with Logan in his arms to see their cousin Jane trotting towards them. They haven't seen her since they were kids, but she looks the same. Sebastian smiles and meets her for an attacking hug.

"How long has it been?"

"Like a thousand years," Sienna says again. Sebastian laughs because that's just about her time frame for everything.

"Who's this little guy?" Jane asks, tickling Logan's arm. He buries his head in Sebastian's neck.

"This," Sienna says, "Is my son, Logan."

"Si," Jane says, "I didn't know you have a son! Damn girl, you look great—"

"Well," Sienna covers her mouth and whispers, "He's my step-son."

"Why do you whisper that?" Jim asks. "He knows he didn't come out of you."

They all laugh. Jane pulls her attention to Jim. "And who is this?" She sticks out her hand to shake his. "Is this Mister Sienna?"

"Hahahahaha!" Sienna laughs out loud. Very loud. "This is Mister Sebastian," she says.

Sebastian looks at her and kind of smiles. "Thanks, Si," he says, shyly looking down at his shoes.

"Oh, really?" Jane says. She shakes his hand and gives a flirting look. Sebastian's not sure why.

"How do you do?" Jim asks, taking her hand and kissing the top. Jane laughs.

They go further into the party and reunite with their family. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Everyone's so excited to see them. A few people look at Sebastian and Jim in a judgmental way, but nothing sticks. They all love Jim and everyone's so happy to see Sienna and Sebastian's. Everyone's ecstatic to meet Logan, actually. Since he keeps getting past back and forth between Jim and Sebastian, their cousin Henry asks if he's the community kid.

"Is he just the community kid since…" everyone knows he's about to comment on Jim and Sebastian being unable to reproduce, which is biologically true, but instead he says, "Nevermind." Everyone laughs anyway.

Someone along the way says, "I'm sorry about your father's death."

But Sienna says, "I'm not," and walks away.

Finally they come to Sebastian and Sienna's grandparents. To be honest, Sebastian's shocked they're even still alive.

"Sebastian, Sienna," their grandma says. "So good to see you children."

"I'm thirty-three years old," Sienna whispers.

"Shut up and hugs your grandmother."

"Hi, Grandma," Sienna says, hugging her. She hugs their grandfather, too.

"And who is this?" Grandma asks.

"This is my son, Logan," Sienna says.

"And is this your husband?"

They all shift uncomfortably.

"No," Sebastian says. "This is my boyfriend, Jim."

"_Your _boyfriend?" She hesitates before taking Jim's hand.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jim says.

"Likewise," Grandma says.

After that, their grandma sends Logan away with Jim while she has an extensive discussion about their father. Sienna sits quietly and listens, but Sebastian can tell that inwardly she's about to explode. Finally, with five minutes until the ceremony, she lets them go.

Sebastian wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close. "You ok?" he asks.

"I need a drink," she says.

Jim finds them and he's holding a glass of wine, so Sienna takes it and drinks half of what's left in one gulp.

"Didn't go well?" he asks.

"Nope," Sebastian says.

Jim waves a waiter over and orders three glasses of wine.

"Where's Logan?" Sebastian asks.

"He found some friends."

They take their seats and the ceremony begins. It's a nice, quick ceremony, which is basically the way everyone likes weddings.

"Pretty," Sienna whispers to Sebastian.

"Who?"

"Barry's new wife."

"Yeah, she is." Sebastian lifts his arm to rest on the back of Jim's seat.

After the ceremony they find their table and sit. Sienna orders another glass of wine.

"Aren't you going through those glasses a bit quick?" Jim asks. Sebastian leans back in his chair and rests his arm on the back of Jim's chair again. When he taps Jim's back, Jim looks at him and mouths, 'What?'. Sebastian shakes his head to say not to ask Sienna if she's had enough.

"I need people to stop asking about Dad," she replies.

"Two people have said anything, Si."

"Six people have, I was alone for a long time while you two visited the loo," she takes a sip and sees them exchange bashful looks. "Please, did you think I didn't notice your bowtie was retied."

Sebastian sits up and adjusts his bowtie. They simultaneously take sips of their wine and try not to look at each other or Sienna. Sienna laughs.

The waiters serve dinner after a short wait and it's amazing. Jim has some kind of chicken and pasta, and Sebastian has steak, but he keeps picking pieces of Jim's chicken.

"Sweetie you have nothing to prove to anyone," Sienna says. "You can get chicken if you want."

Jim laughs.

"What?" Sebastian asks.

"She's pointing out that you only got a steak because you're trying to be manly."

"I did not."

"Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you not eat steak while we're on a date," Jim says.

Sebastian pouts and eats the rest of his steak.

After many drinks, Sienna pulls Jim onto the dance floor and they dance for a long time. Sebastian counts in his head how many glasses of wine Sienna's had: about seven. He could be wrong. But he's not.

A slow song starts and Sebastian watches Sienna and Jim dance. They're laughing and having a good time, and without realizing it, Sebastian's face feels hot. He touches his cheek and wonders what's wrong with him, but then he realizes he's jealous. He takes the last sip of wine, stands, buttons his jacket, and walks over to them on the dancefloor.

"May I cut in?" he asks.

Sienna smiles at him and pulls back, letting Sebastian take his place.

They turn with the music while Jim leads. Sebastian got used to that.

"So, having a good time?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah, it's not all bad. Usually I hate weddings."

"Me too. I especially hated Sienna's."

Jim laughs. "Oh, I did too."

Sebastian pulls him closer. "But this time, it's going well?"

"Yes," Jim smiles. "Your cousin Jane pinched my arse."

"Yeah, what is her fascination with you?"

Jim shrugs. "She must be one of those women that likes gay men, you know? They want to either watch or turn you back."

Sebastian laughs. "Likely chance."

After the song they return to their table. Sienna's got another glass of wine.

"Sienna, you should slow down," Jim says. Sebastian glares. "What?"

"Don't tell her."

"I miss my husband," Sienna suddenly says.

"Sorry, Si."

"Sometimes I wonder why I put up with him working so much. Sometimes I don't like it, I just want to take Logan and leave. But I love him, you know?" She takes a sip and quickly says, "And the sex is great."

Jim and Sebastian exchange weary looks.

"How about you, Seb? Are you well shagged?"

Sebastian spits wine through his nose. Not pleasant.

"Si, I don't really think—"

"Oh come on, we're all family here! And I'd die to know what Jim's like in bed!"

Jim leans over to Sebastian and whispers, "Maybe it was her that pinched my arse."

After a while, Logan makes his way to their table and climbs into Jim's lap. He rests his head on Jim's shoulder while his torso rests against Jim's. After a while Logan grows heavy and Jim shakes him.

"Is he asleep?" Jim asks.

Sebastian examines Logan's face. "Yep."

"You wanna go?"

Sebastian nods. "You wanna drive Logan or Drunky McDrunkson home?"

Jim laughs. "I'll take the kid."

They say goodbye to everyone, exchange numbers, and Sebastian apologizes to the few sober people for Sienna's behavior. He pulls Sienna to the car and gets her in the passenger seat, then helps Jim get Logan in the car.

"Ok, I'll see you at Sienna's," Sebastian says.

"Great. On the way there," Jim steps closer to him and traces Sebastian's throat with his fingertip. "Think about all the things we can do with this bowtie." He lightly kisses Sebastian's lips.

"Ok," Sebastian squeaks. He clears his throat and pulls away. "Alright, yes, good."

Jim smirks and backs to his car.

"I love you," Sebastian yells back to Jim as he gets into the car.

Jim smiles and wonders how much Sebastian had to drink, but when he realizes Sebastian had none, he smiles wider.

They practically race to Sienna's. Jim speeds because he wants to get home quicker, Sebastian speeds because Sienna's talking to him about sex.

"It really is great with a man, isn't it?" She asks.

"Oh god."

"I mean…a cock is just—"

"Could we not?"

"I mean, you should know the most. You've got your own _and _Jim's."

"Seriously, let's not—"

"But really, Seb. Are you being safe?"

"We really don't have to—"

"I'm just looking out for you."

"Yes, I know. But please don't."

For the rest of the ride, Sienna goes on and on about nothing, as far as Sebastian's concerned, but Sebastian thinks about what he and Jim are going to do when they finally get home.

They get to Sienna's and Jim's already waiting. They get Logan out of the car and Jim takes him to bed while Sebastian takes Sienna. Her husband's there, already asleep, so he says he can take it from here so Sebastian leaves Sienna to him. He goes to Logan's room to get Jim and sees Jim delicately removing Logan's shoes and pants, then replacing them with pajamas.

"How cute," Sebastian says. He helps Jim and they leave.

When they get home they stumble into the flat while snagging messy kisses from each other and pulling clothes off.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Sebastian asks while pushing Jim to the bedroom.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you."

"No, no," Sebastian pulls Jim's jacket off and untucks his shirt. "Thank you."

They fall onto the bed and clothes are removed. Then, as promised, the bowtie is put to amazing use.

_***Ok so I really need to write an entire timeline of events for Sebastian's life. I'm not sure if I ever even mention his father's death or what, but in my mind during this whole thing, his father died while Sebastian was at war. I might have mentioned it, I don't know, and I don't remember. There was something about someone dying while they were at war. Maybe that was John.**_

_***Anyway, thank you for the reviews and please review this one! : ) **_


	63. Chapter 63

**Couple 1**

Everyone's got bad habits, right? Greg and Mycroft are no exceptions. To be completely honest, their bad habits drive each other up the wall but that's really ok because they love each other.

Mycroft's habits are pretty straight forward. He's picky. He's honest. Sometimes he's not very nice. But are those really habits? Greg thinks so. Habits are changeable, Greg believes, and Mycroft can definitely be less picky, a tad less honest, and he can positively be nicer. It's just that he won't, and for the most part that's ok to Greg.

Mycroft hates Greg's bad habits, though. (Maybe that's a bad habit of Mycroft's? He hates Greg's). Anyway, Greg's bad habits are things Mycroft never had to deal with before he had Greg.

You see, Greg likes to leave all of his crap everywhere. Well, not really. That's what Mycroft says. The truth it, Greg has an issue with, say, putting his dirty pants in the hamper. Greg doesn't pick up his towels after he uses them. Greg often doesn't have clean socks because he leaves his everywhere, which means he always steals Mycroft's, which means Mycroft never has any, which means _he _has to do laundry. Which obviously doesn't make him happy.

"Greg," Mycroft starts one morning after opening his sock drawer to no socks. "Greg, darling, I love you but I will kill you if I open my sock drawer to nothing one more time."

"What?" Greg asks, walking out of the bathroom and into their closet space.

"My damn socks, Greg."

Greg's eyes widen and he pauses. Mycroft doesn't talk like that. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a literal death threat, Greg. I need socks!"

"Ok, ok," Greg rummages around his drawers and manages to find an old pair of holiday socks. They have snowmen on them. They were probably a gift from one of the girls. He hands them to Mycroft.

"Are you joking?"

"Those are the only ones I have."

Mycroft flairs his nostrils and snatches them out of Greg's hands.

Later that day, Mycroft is in a meeting with many, many important people. His feet are visible under his desk and when he leans back, his trousers pull up and his socks are visible. Out of nowhere, his assistant, who is sitting across the isle, begins laughing.

"What?" Mycroft hisses.

"Nothing, sir, sorry."

Three minutes later, his assistant laughs again. This time, everyone turns around and stares at him and Mycroft.

"What's funny?" the head of the meeting asks.

"I'm sorry Mister Holmes, your socks just lit up."

Mycroft quickly looks down at his feet. Suddenly everyone laughs and Mycroft blushes. The ten-year-old boy in him wants to flee the room, but of course he can't. He breathes in and lifts his chin to answer. "My boyfriend steals my socks, so I had to take a pair of his. Can we please get on with the meeting?" he gestures for the head to go on.

Someone raises their hand. Mycroft's not sure who it is because his head is in his hands.

"Yes?" the head asks.

"I have a question," there's silence and Mycroft's sure the questioner was motioned to ask. "Mister Holmes, is your boyfriend a clown?"

The room breaks into laughter. Even Mycroft smiles. He opens his eyes and chuckles, then asks again for the meeting to resume.

Later, at home, Greg and Mycroft are relaxing on the couch. Their feet are on the coffee table; Mycroft with light up snowmen socks and Greg without socks because he didn't have any.

"Do you see my point?" Mycroft asks.

"Yes, yes I do."

"So you'll pick up your socks? Do laundry?"

"Yes, love."

"And never make me wear these awful things again?"

Greg laughs and lies down against Mycroft's stomach. "I think they're cute."

Mycroft rakes his fingers through Greg's hair. "Yeah, you would." He rests his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes.

Greg sits up and looks at Mycroft. He chuckles. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mmmm," Mycroft sighs. "You have a pair of underwear with hearts on them."

Greg leans over Mycroft and rubs his nose against Mycroft's. "They were a gift and you like them," he breathes over Mycroft's lips. Mycroft smiles and Greg attacks his lips in a kiss.

"I promise I'll clean up from now on," Greg says once he breaks away.

"That's all I ask."

Greg's promise lasts for a while, a couple months, then it slowly dwindles and Mycroft re-steals his socks, plus Greg's, and holds them hostage until Greg makes up for breaking his promise (doesn't take long).

**Couple 2**

Sherlock Holmes is a whole mess of bad habits. He's loud, he's annoying, he's inconsiderate, he's insensitive, he's…well he's Sherlock, and that is his bad habit. Of course John would never change him, ever. John loves him; he really does love all of Sherlock's perks. Do they prove inconvenient in inconvenient times? Yes. Do they piss John off so much he wants to beat the crap out of Sherlock sometimes? Hell yeah. Does John wish he didn't play the freakin' violin at 4 AM? Ooooooh, yeah. But does he want to change his one true love? Of course not.

Sherlock wouldn't say John has many bad habits. Sometimes John makes Sherlock eat vegetables ("Sherlock, that's not a habit of mine-" "Yes it is."). Sometimes John snores. Sometimes John yells. But they're not really all that bad (except the vegetables).

John does have one particular habit, though, that Sherlock found quite the shock. See, John had a bit too much time alone while Sherlock was gone and he took up a gambling hobby. Not really a hobby, actually, it's definitely a bad habit.

At first it wasn't an issue to Sherlock. He let John do whatever he wanted; John's life, John's money. Until it affected Sherlock's life by John spending half the earnings of a huge case in his stupid online games. The only reason he didn't spend the other half was because Sherlock hid the other half.

"John, honestly. This is turning into a problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your stupid gambling."

They're sitting at breakfast in a café they found across town. It's early, the sun's just up, and the reason they're out right now is Sherlock's case. John rewarded himself by downloading a downloading app on his phone.

"It's not stupid."

"It is stupid," Sherlock sips his coffee and John doesn't even look up. "John?" Sherlock leans closer to John across the table and rests his hand next to John's. "John? You're not even paying attention to me!"

"What, Sherlock?" John slams his phone down and looks at Sherlock.

"You. Have. An. Addiction."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. I know addictions, John. I am addictions—"

"I'm choosing to ignore that—"

"—All I know is, you've got a gambling addiction and I don't like it."

A few weeks later, John discovers that he's got a computer virus due to online gambling. John pouts all day because Sherlock won't fix it and keeps saying that this is what John gets. So John takes it to a shop and gets very bored while it's gone because Sherlock won't let him use his laptop.

"You need to kick this addiction, John. Quit cold turkey, end it."

"No."

"Yes, John. This is because I love you, and if you love me you'd—"

"Do not. You know that I'd do anything for you; I have killed and will kill, I gave up my life for you, Sherlock. Just let me have this one thing."

"It is an addiction, John. What would you say if I wanted to be a drug addict again?"

John motions his hands as weights. "Gambling, drugs. I'd say drugs are worse."

"Physically maybe, but any addiction is mentally unsafe. John, I'm serious. This needs to end."

John looks into Sherlock's eyes. He sees that Sherlock is serious. He gets this certain look and it's there.

"Ok," John says, "Fine. Cure me."

Weeks later John's gambling-free. Sherlock had to find other things, though, to get John's mind off it. They baked a lot, they took on more cases, and during a particularly boring week they counted how many times they could have sex in seven days (it's a lot, really). All in all the addiction is kicked and it all works out in the end.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian has one particular bad habit that drives Jim craziest. Sebastian is messy. Like really messy. He doesn't shower if he doesn't want to, his hair is awful and long (Jim's words), he leaves dirty clothes everywhere, he doesn't clean up after himself at all (dishes, DVD's, towels, everything). All in all, Jim just thinks he's gross.

And Jim tries to tell him to change that.

"Take a shower," Jim tells him.

"Cut your hair," he says.

"Do your laundry," he constantly pleads.

"Will you take the dirty dishes off the kitchen table?" he asks.

Most of the time Sebastian nods or waves a hand claiming to accept what's happening. But he doesn't do what Jim tells him. He doesn't take a shower, he doesn't cut his hair, he doesn't do laundry, and he doesn't clean the dishes off the table. He goes about his day and doesn't do those things (well, he might shower after like an hour or two of hearing Jim complain).

"Why don't you ever do anything I ask you to?" John asks.

"Because I'm a grown man."

"Then why are you doing the dishes right now?"

"Because you picked up dinner, so I thought I'd be nice," Sebastian drains the sink and dries his hands. He turns around and leans against the counter. "Why do you feel the need to control me?"

"Why do you feel the need to not shower until five o'clock in the afternoon? Or let your hair grow? Or leave your dirty clothes everywhere?"

"Because you control my life. I am a grown man. I can do whatever I want."

"I don't control you."

"Yes you do. You always have."

"So your way of not being controlled is being disgusting?"

"No, my way of not being controlled is basically telling you to shut the fuck up and let me live my life."

Jim's eyebrows go to his hairline and he sits back in his chair. "When did this turn into a fight?"

"It's not a fight. It's a discussion about you leaving me alone."

"Look, Seb, I didn't mean to—"

"Just leave me alone and stop trying to control my life," Sebastian says, then storms out of the kitchen.

He goes to their room and sits until Jim follows. Jim sits on the edge of the bed, barely even on the bed, and doesn't say anything.

"I don't like when you tell me what to do," Sebastian says without taking his eyes off the TV.

"I don't like when you don't shower. I don't like when you have shaggy hair. I don't like when you—"

"This is exactly what I mean. I don't care if you don't like it." Jim chuckles. Sebastian finally looks at him. "What?" he asks.

Jim falls back onto the bed and rests his head next to Sebastian's shoulder. "Why are you the only person that I can't control?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Because I have a mind of my own?" he questions.

"When I met you," Jim lifts Sebastian's hand and rests it on his chest. He continues, "I didn't think you had a mind of your own. That's why I liked you. I thought I could control you, but you made it so difficult." He plays with Sebastian's fingers on his chest.

"So you're saying you don't like me because you can't control me?"

Jim laughs. He sits up and leans against the headboard next to Sebastian. "That's not what I mean. What I mean is I love you because unlike everyone on this planet you have a mind of your own, but I still want you to not have disgusting habits."

Sebastian smiles and looks at Jim. "I'll try harder to be less disgusting as long as you try to be less bossy."

"But I am your boss."

"Only technically," Sebastian says. He smiles at Jim, then kisses him. "I'm sorry I got angry."

"It's ok," Jim says.

They have a pleasant rest of the evening, and Sebastian really does try to have less disgusting habits, but Jim doesn't keep to trying not to boss Sebastian around. It lasts about three days but Sebastian doesn't make an issue of it because he knew Jim tried his hardest.

_***I don't really remember if John's gambling thing is canon or not. It's been a few years since I read the novels and I'm really not sure, but John has a gambling problem in the Guy Ritchie series, and of course I love those, so that's ok right? Anyway I'm sorry it's taken forever to update. I was away all last week and I'm actually moving right now so that's a weird thing happening. As always thank you for reading and please review. Thank you! : )**_


	64. Chapter 64

**Couple 1**

It seems like they've been together forever, right? To them and everyone around them, it's been eternity since that first meeting, first date, first kiss, first everything. Fights, holidays, make-ups, vacations, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years have gone by and they've loved each other no less.

For a while now, Greg's wanted to propose. Of course, he's wanted to almost the entire time he's been with Mycroft. But he's actually _wanted _to, actually has planned to do so for around three months. They've been wearing each other's rings for a while now, but Greg wants to do the whole ring, get down on one knee bit, so he buys a slim silver band that can be welded to Mycroft's current band.

The day after he buys it, he goes to a pub with John to watch a match.

"So?" Greg asks after John just kind of stares at the ring for almost all of half-time.

"Uhhhhhm," John just kind of replies.

"What do you think?" Greg asks.

"Well…I mean I…it's…" John licks his lips and thinks of any adjective he can. "Round." He blinks. Not exactly what he had in mind, but still.

Greg laughs. "Wasn't sure what anyone'd say, that's why I'm testing it on you first."

"Are you…proposing to me?" John asks.

Greg laughs again. "No, no!"

John gives a weird, relieved laugh. "I think it's great," he reassures Greg.

"Yeah? Man, that's great. That's really great."

John reaches his hang out to shake Greg's. "Congratulations."

Greg smiles and pulls John in for a hug.

* * *

><p>Later that night, John goes home and tells Sherlock the news. Sherlock laughs out loud when John finishes the story.<p>

"Why are you laughing?" John asks.

"He is in over his head."

"What do you mean?"

"He was excited. So excited that he told you. He anticipates Mycroft saying yes."

John takes a minute to catch up. "And he…isn't going to?"

"Correct. Mycroft isn't going to say yes to Greg's proposal."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's _Mycroft. _Mycroft didn't say yes when my tutor asked him to a dance. If Mycroft doesn't want to, he won't."

"I'm sure he wants to."

"Ha!" Sherlock laughs again.

John furrows his brows and huffs. "I'm willing to literally bet you—"

Sherlock looks at John and quirks an eyebrow.

"Ok, poor choice of words. But seriously, Sherlock, I can almost guarantee Mycroft will say yes."

Sherlock smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I know you're a poor loser, John Watson."

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, Greg's decided on a plan to ask Mycroft. He wants to take Mycroft out to dinner, then propose while walking home. Outside their doorstep was where they shared their first kiss, and Greg wants to relive the moment, so to speak.<p>

Finally the night comes that he plans to propose. He tells the department that under no circumstances is he to be called unless there's an extreme emergency, but it's been a quiet few weeks and he has confidence.

All night he fiddles with the box in his pocket. Mycroft can tell he's nervous but he's not sure what Greg's nervous about.

"How's work been this week?" Mycroft asks.

"Fine. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you're so on edge."

"On edge? I'm not on edge."

Mycroft smiles. "Ok, if you say so."

They resume the evening and after dinner they take the walk to home. Greg is very, very nervous. His palms are sweaty, he feels clammy, and his stomach aches. He wishes he hadn't eaten dinner.

When they're almost home, he grabs hold of Mycroft's hand and squeezes.

"You know, Mycroft," he begins his speech, "When I met you, I didn't think—"

_Mother fucking shit god damn son of a bitch, _Greg thinks as he feels the intense vibrating of his phone. His phone has two vibrate settings: normal text and call and emergency text and call; this is an emergency. He knows he really shouldn't ignore it, he _really really _shouldn't, so he takes his phone out of his pocket and answers.

"Lestrade."

Mycroft waits patiently while he listens to Greg.

"Can't you—no, I'm kind of—look, I know it's tough, but—" he sighs. He holds the receiver and asks Mycroft, "Do you mind if—"

"No, not at all."

Greg faintly smiles, kisses Mycroft, and leaves.

* * *

><p>That case doesn't last long, so Greg decides to try again two weeks later after a week of peace and quiet in homicide. They go through the same routine, dinner and a walk.<p>

By now Greg believes he's cursed, or someone truly hates him, because again he gets a phone call from work. Again, he thinks about not answering, but Mycroft insists he does (work over pleasure to him, you know?) so Greg answers.

"Lestrade.—No.—No, I'm busy.—Look, just call—He's still on holiday? You're kidding.—Yes, alright—"

Again, Greg kisses Mycroft goodbye and leaves.

Of course Mycroft figured out why Greg's been so on edge this entire month, since the first night he asked what was wrong until now, four weeks later. They haven't gone out on a date since, but sure enough, Mycroft realizes that Greg's going to ask him to marry him.

The moment he realizes it, Mycroft smiles. It's a giddy, satisfied smile. He's not sure why.

Then, he kind of panics. _What am I going to say when Greg asks? What if I accidentally say no? What if I say yes and change my mind? What if Greg changes his mind? What if he never asks because the damn police force can't function without him?_ Mycroft takes a deep breath. Just then, Greg walks into the room and leans over Mycroft to kiss his cheek.

As Greg leaves the living room to go to their bedroom, he calls after himself, "Are you up for a date tomorrow night?"

Mycroft smiles and follows Greg into their room.

* * *

><p><em>Dear God, this is never going to happen is it? <em>Greg asks himself.

There have been no interruptions tonight, nothing holding back the big question, and still Greg can't just say it. This isn't going to happen so much that they're walked a mile past their building because Greg keeps getting nervous.

Finally he takes a deep breath and grabs Mycroft's hand. Mycroft smiles; Greg doesn't notice.

"Listen, Mycroft," Greg starts. "For a while now, I've wanted to—"

Suddenly Greg's phone vibrates again. This time he leaves it. _Dimmock's back from holiday, he can bloody handle this,_ he thinks. It goes to voicemail and it starts again.

"For a while now, I've wanted to—" aaaaaaaand the phone rings again. "God damn it!" Greg shouts, reaching for his phone. "WHAT?" he answers. "No, I'm very, very busy—Yes, you can call him, I don't bloody—No—"

This whole time, Mycroft stands cross armed and impatiently tapping his foot. A bit too impatient, actually, because before he even knows what he's thinking, he blurts, "Oh for God's sakes," he throws his hands in the air, "Greg, will you marry me?" He more or less shouts the last bit so loud that the ten people walking in different directions down the street momentarily pause because of the commotion.

"Dimmock can handle this case, I don't care who—" he pauses and looks at Mycroft. "What did you just say?"

"I asked you to marry me, damnit. Someone had to!"

Greg holds the phone to his mouth again. "I need to call you back," he says. "Give me three minutes!" he shouts. He hangs up. "Now…what?"

"I've known for a while that you were planning to propose, and apparently the forces of the universe don't want _you _to ask, so I will. Gregory Lestrade, will you marry me?"

Greg frowns. He looks angry. "No," he says.

Mycroft gasps. "What?"

"No, I didn't mean…yes."

"You didn't mean 'yes'? Geez, Greg, I—"

Greg quickly grabs Mycroft's hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the knuckle. "I didn't mean that, ok? I love you."

"You sound angry," Mycroft observes.

Greg pouts. "I was supposed to do it," he says.

Mycroft smiles and pulls Greg to him. They hug and Greg pulls away to kiss his cheek.

"Well?" Mycroft asks.

"Yes," Greg smiles. "Yes, of course."

They kiss. Greg could swear somewhere they were fireworks, but it may have just been his own heart. Or his phone frantically vibrating.

"Yes, yes I'm here," he answers, "Everything's great," he says. He smiles at Mycroft and leaves.

* * *

><p>Greg arrives at the scene and of course John and Sherlock are there. Sherlock's busy running around collecting his own evidence and John is in the background watching him with droopy eyes.<p>

"You ok, John?" Greg asks.

"Tired. I was asleep," he yawns.

Greg smiles.

"You look giddy," John says.

"I was gettin' myself engaged," Greg says.

"No," John hits Greg's chest with the back of his hand. "Mycroft said yes?"

Greg nods.

Sherlock goes over to them and begins blurting out evidence. When he gets no reaction because John and Greg are thinking over Greg's engagement, he asks what's going on.

"Greg just got engaged, Sherlock," John says.

Sherlock sighs. He reaches into his pocket and hands John a bill.

"What? You bet on my relationship?" Greg asks.

"I didn't think Mycroft would say yes," Sherlock says.

Greg gets a bashful smile. He looks from John to Sherlock. Sherlock can tell he's about to share some interesting news, so he quickly deduces.

"Ahh," he quickly stops Greg from telling the news. He dips into his pocket again and hands John another bill.

"What's this for?" John asks.

"Mycroft is the one that proposed," Sherlock shares.

"How could you possibly—" John starts.

"No, really. I want to hear this," Greg adds. He crosses his arms and looks at Sherlock.

"It's not difficult, really. Simply stating that you got engaged wasn't the end of the news, obviously, and it was something we'd be shocked about because of the pause you gave. And your smile shows it's something exciting, something that pleases you. Mycroft proposing? Something that would please you."

"Well done, Sherlock," Greg says. "Now, what have you got for me?"

* * *

><p>Greg gets home around three A.M. When he gets there, Mycroft's asleep and at first he doesn't want to wake him, but then he takes off his jacket and feels the ring box in the pocket. He takes off his clothes and goes to bed. Once there, he lies over Mycroft and kisses his cheek. Mycroft slowly wakes and turns onto his back, then Greg lies over him again.<p>

"What time is it?" Mycroft asks.

"Late, or early, depending on how you think of it."

Mycroft smiles. "How was the case?"

"Boring."

"Was my brother there?"

"Mhm," Greg nods. "Apparently he and John bet on our relationship. Sherlock had to pay John because we got engaged, then had to pay him again because _you _asked _me._"

"You told him that?"

"Of course not."

Mycroft laughs and wraps his arms around Greg's neck. Greg kisses him, but before things go further, he pulls away.

"Wait," Greg says, "I have something for you." He reaches over Mycroft onto the nightstand and grabs the box.

"What's this?"

Greg opens the box and pulls the ring out. He sits up and slips it onto Mycroft's finger, next to the other ring.

"Another ring?"

"Yeah, you know? Brides get the engagement ring and the real band, I figured this could be the real band. It fits so it can be welded to the other one. You don't have to wear it now, we can save it for the wedding—"

"Are you saying I'm the bride?"

Greg laughs. "No, of course not. I just meant—"

"Greg, I'm joking. I can do that, you know?"

Greg laughs and tackles Mycroft's lips with his own.

* * *

><p>They tell everyone right away. The morning after they get engaged, Mycroft calls his mother and tells her. She's thrilled, very excited that her son really, truly found someone. "Now," she tells Mycroft, "Your brother, on the other hand…"<p>

Their wedding is a whole different story, and if you want to find out, well, you'll have to stay tuned.

_***They just had to get engaged, ok? It was about time. Couples 2 and 3 will be up later, not sure when. Again, I'm really sorry I'm taking forever to update. I've been busy with stuff. Starting Sunday I'm actually really moving so I think it'll be slow next week, too. Stay with me, please! And review this one, pleeeeeeease. Tell me what you want to see happen to our boys. : ) **_


	65. Chapter 65

Eight and a half years ago, Jim Moriarty spent weeks getting Sebastian Moran back to England. You know he could do that, right? He actually had the power to get a man dishonorably discharged from the Army, and that was at the beginning of his career.

Jim heard of Sebastian and immediately knew he wanted him. He wanted Sebastian to do all his dirty work, killing, thieving, you know all that jazz. It wasn't until Jim set eyes on Sebastian Moran in a bar that he knew he wanted Sebastian for an entire different reason.

So he took it. For a year Sebastian let him have what Jim wanted, even though Sebastian didn't want it. Sebastian wanted the money and the clothes and the place to live. To make up for it, Sebastian would leave Jim's flat after every encounter (as he called it), go to a bar, and nearly drink himself to death.

Then one day Sebastian got angry and punched Jim. He told Jim he didn't want anything to do with him anymore and left.

Months after that, Sebastian saw Jim again and assumed Jim wanted him back. He was wrong, of course, but soon after they got back together. Sebastian moved in and they very sweetly fell in love.

For five years everything was fine (apart from the time spent apart when Jim 'died'). After he came back, they exchanged commitment items like a ring and Sebastian's tags. Jim wore the tags all the time and Sebastian did appreciate that.

Then Sebastian turned into a dumbass and cheated on Jim. He really didn't mean to but everything to both of them was just so bad. Jim would never cheat on Sebastian, and Sebastian never thought he'd ever cheat on Jim, but he did and now what's done is done.

That was nearly three years ago and everything is completely different. They moved flats, which was awesome to them. It was like starting over. Sebastian got the dog he wanted and, though Jim claims he doesn't enjoy it, he really does. His favorite thing about that dog is that it's little. See, when Sebastian said, "I got a dog," Jim expected a big bull dog or something, you know? Something an ex-Army Colonel would have. However, the dog Sebastian got was a little Shih Tzu with brown hair the same shade as his own.

The little puppy had a previous owner so her name is Pink. She's really adorable, she's so tiny that he carries her around almost all the time, and she sleeps with Sebastian. Well, not really _with _Sebastian, more like _on _Sebastian. Anyway, when Sebastian said he got a dog, Jim wanted to argue and demand he take it back to where it came from, but then he saw Pink and how freakin' cute Sebastian is with her so he let Sebastian keep her.

So, anyway, everything is good now. They've been acquaintances for eight and a half years, official boyfriends for seven or so years, so everything is natural to them. Terms of endearment slip off the tongue quicker than they can think about; 'I love you's' are easy to come by; nights in are always welcome; Sebastian stopped eating _just _steak while out on a date; and of course they've got their family, like Sebastian's sister Sienna, her husband, and Logan.

Some mornings they don't like getting out of bed. They're both getting older and limbs and joints ache more often, but more than that they don't like to start the day and just get out of the bed. This is one of those mornings. It's raining for one thing, and Jim hates the rain. For another, his boyfriend's lips just look too good to pass up.

They're laying facing each other in bed, hardly touching but where lips meet. Sebastian's arms are lightly around Jim's waist and Jim's arm is cradling Sebastian's head. His other hand is on Sebastian's jaw.

Jim pulls away and licks his lips, tasting Sebastian there. Jim traces Sebastian's bottom lip with his thumb.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your lips?" he asks.

"No, I don't think so."

Jim smiles and shoves his tongue back between Sebastian's lips.

After possibly the most epic make-out session they'd had in a long time, they remove themselves from bed and get ready for their ten o'clock meeting. The rain doesn't stop, as a matter of fact it's gotten harder. It makes Jim grouchy. It makes Jim even more angry that Sebastian insists they walk the seven blocks to their meeting.

When they arrive and the meeting gets going, they learn it's a real-estate mogul that wants his wife killed. Of course they've had thousands of cases like this, but something about this one strikes Sebastian as wrong. Apparently, the man suspects his wife of adultery and just wants her dead. It doesn't sit well with Sebastian, and when Jim says ok, Sebastian says no.

"What do you mean 'no', Sebastian?" Jim insists.

Sebastian glances at the client, Calvin, then to Jim. "Can we discuss this outside?" he asks.

"Look if you don't want the job, I—" Calvin begins.

Jim eyes Sebastian. "It appears we have some…things to discuss, Mr. Johnson. My partner and I need time to talk it over."

"Well, I've got a lunch meeting in five. How about you two gents come back around two?"

"Perfect," Sebastian says, standing and buttoning his jacket.

They go to a café and Sebastian decides they can sit outside. The sky cleared up a bit and it's nice now. Sebastian stares at the clouds through his sunglasses and thinks about the client, the case, and about Jim. He could never do that to Jim. Of course, he's been in Mrs. Johnson's position; what if Jim had wanted him killed? What if Jim hired someone to kill Sebastian? What if Jim had done it himself? Suddenly his thoughts form one clear coherent thought: their situation wasn't the same as Mr. and Mrs. Johnsons' because they weren't, aren't, married.

"Jim, how long have we been together?" Sebastian asks after nearly half an hour of silence.

"A while. Why?"

"Don't you think it's time for us to, ya know? Get married?"

Jim snorts. "Why in the world would that be a good idea?"

"I don't know, just seems like a good idea."

"Yeah, _idea_. You don't think we'd last, do you?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I dunno. We're bound to last longer than any of these couples we've helped."

Jim laughs. "Yeah, we've never tried to kill each other, though."

"And I doubt we ever will. Do you think you'll want to kill me in the future?"

"Hmm," Jim shrugs. "Probably not."

Sebastian takes his attention away from his finger nails. He sits up on the edge of his seat and rests his elbows on his knees. "Give me one good reason and I'll never ask again."

"You haven't even asked."

"Fair enough," Sebastian gets off his chair and slithers to his knees. He walks (on his knees) over to Jim. "Jim," he begins.

Jim gives an embarrassed smile and covers his face with his hand. "Oh, god. Don't."

Sebastian grabs the hand that's cradling Jim's face. "Will you marry me?"

Jim laughs and looks at Sebastian. "No," he says. Sebastian frowns and drops Jim's hand. "And now I'll give you a good reason why," Jim adds.

"Ok, enlighten me," Sebastian gets back on his chair.

"We don't really want to marry each other, Sebastian. I don't know what's going on with you, maybe you feel sorry for Mrs. Johnson. But you know we don't want to get married."

"I want to marry you, Jim," Sebastian says without even a second thought. Even he's shocked at how quickly it came out of his own mouth.

Jim takes a deep breath. "What brought this on? This morning started out such a good day."

"What? It's not now?"

"No, not now. I can't believe—" Jim cuts himself off and breathes deep. His nostrils flare and Sebastian knows he's angry now. "Why would you even ask?"

"Why are you so angry? Seriously, Jim. I want to marry you. Why don't you want to marry me?"

They're silent for a long time. The waitress brings their meal and flirtingly smiles at Sebastian. Sebastian doesn't smile back, he doesn't even notice her. Jim notices all of it, though.

"Let me ask you something, Jim," Sebastian says. "How would you feel if someone hired you to kill me? What if someone wanted to kill me, Jim? How would you feel then? Knowing I was being hunted, would you want to—"

"I've already lived through this Sebastian. _He _went after you, remember? Just a few months ago. He almost had you, too, but—"

"Then tell me how you felt then. How did you feel when he came after me and you weren't there?"

Jim swallows and fiddles with his fork. He doesn't say anything.

"How did you feel, Jim?"

"I was angry."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't there!" Jim snaps. "Because you shouldn't have even been in that position. I could have lost you, then what would I have done? Getting married, Seb, that would make every risk a thousand times worse. I think I could survive losing my partner, my boyfriend," Jim breathes then says, "But I don't think I could lose my husband."

Sebastian blinks down at his food. He's suddenly not hungry. He never thought of it that way. Jim left him for a while and, though he _was _heartbroken, he lived. Losing his husband, though, would kill him.

"It's a risk _I'm _willing to take," Sebastian admits.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I love you," Sebastian says. He leans forward and leans over the table to better be able to whisper so just Jim hears. "I still get butterflies when I see you, Jim. I still get extremely excited when you get home, even if I know you're in a bad mood. I love going to bed with you. I'm so freakin' attracted to you that I," Sebastian chuckles to himself, "I get hard with even the smallest kiss. I feel like I'm a newly hormonal teenager sometimes. I know, that's really dumb, but it…it matters to me."

"Getting hard?" Jim questions.

"No! Marrying you!"

Jim laughs. "Well," he says, "I really hope those aren't your vows when we get married."

Sebastian laughs. "Don't worry, I'll think of someth—_wait, what_?"

"You're an idiot," Jim states.

Sebastian looks confused. Jim laughs at him. "So," Sebastian begins, "You want to?"

Jim shrugs. "Yes, I'll marry you, ok?"

Sebastian stands, nearly throwing his chair out from under him, steps around the table, grabs Jim's face, and kisses him deeply. Neither care that they're right outside a busy restaurant and people are now staring. They kiss and laugh and smile and Sebastian's pretty sure he's never been so happy (Jim, too).

They go back to see Calvin and Sebastian waits outside while Jim finishes the details. Jim's in their for ten minutes before Mr. Johnson slams his door open and practically shoo's Jim out.

"Come on, Seb. We don't need to be here," he grabs Sebastian's hand and leads him out of the building.

"What happened?" Sebastian asks. "Didn't you close the deal?"

"No. I told him never mind, and he…" Jim shakes his head and huffs. "He said a lot of mean things about you and I."

"Wait, why did you say no?"

"I told him that he and Mrs. Johnson just need to work out their problems on their own. He needs to get the facts straight before he has her murdered."

Sebastian smiles. "Look at you, you big romantic."

Jim smiles back. "I don't know what you've done to me, Moran." He leans over to Sebastian and kisses him softly.

_***Oh goodness cute men being cute. I know I've gone out of order, but I wanted MorMor to go up first because I haven't even written Johnlock yet. Review, always review. : ) **_


	66. Chapter 66

When Sherlock finally decided he was going to ask John to marry him, he threw up three times. The first was butterflies – _I'm excitement_! The second was nerves – _how am I going to ask? _And the third was panic – _what if John says no? _

Of course John would never ever say no to anything Sherlock asks or says. ("Your _brother_ named Harry—" "How could you possibly know about the drinking?" – "Hellish, I suppose?" "I'm never bored." (Ok, ok, the second one was _about _Sherlock but it counts, right?)). So of course John was going to say yes.

Then for a few weeks Sherlock kind of walked around kind of mummified with anticipation. He acted completely strange and of course John knew. But John just assumed he was excited about his birthday because it was nearly a month away and over the years Sherlock's learned to love his birthday. Birthday meant sweets and John and _sweets_ _and John, _if you know what I mean.

Finally Sherlock got over the excitement and nerves and doubt and decided it was time to execute his plan. What plan? He didn't have one. So for help he went to—

"Molly, I need your help."

"Oh god," Molly replied. "Sherlock, last time you asked me for help…I…you know?"

"You what?"

Molly bashfully looks side to side, then whispers, "Killed you."

Sherlock almost laughs, but he doesn't. "Yes, well, this is something entirely different."

The next day they meet for lunch and Sherlock asks her what to do.

"Well, when my husband proposed, he took me to a fancy dinner and asked at the restaurant."

"Boring."

"Boring?"

"Yes. Boring, dull, uninteresting, lackluster—"

"Ok, I get it," she stops him. "Do you have anything in mind then?"

Sherlock thinks. He shakes his head.

"Ok, let's see. Where was the first place you met?"

"Bart's Lab," Sherlock's eyes brighten and he smiles. "Hey there's an id—"

"No," Molly quickly ends that train of thought. "Ok, hum…where was the first place you kissed?"

"Our living room."

"No, that's no good either. Where was your first date?"

"Angelo's."

"Well, how about Angelo's, then?"

"But we go to Angelo's all the time. I don't want it to be just any old place."

"And Bart's Lab was a suitable idea?" Molly laughs. It's apparent to Sherlock that she's grown more comfortable with him since he 'died' all those years ago, so he laughs too. "Ok," Molly resumes. "Where is someplace you two have never been together?"

Sherlock thinks. "I don't know. We've gone on many holidays. We've gone away for cases…"

"Oh, did you want to _go _somewhere? Because I was just thinking places in London, you know? Restaurants or parks or the London Eye or—"

"Actually, I think I'd quite like going on holiday."

Molly smiles. "Sounds great."

After they finish their food, Molly asks about a ring.

"What about it?"

"Are you going to propose with a ring?"

Sherlock thinks that over, too. "I hadn't thought about it. Should I?"

"It's traditional…but I guess you two aren't the most traditional of men."

"Hmm," Sherlock brings his hands together and rests his fingertips below his nose. He takes a while thinking. _Would John want another ring? Probably. Would he wear it or would I be wasting my money? No! _Sherlock shouts at himself. _Nothing for John is wasted. Except those fingers I brought him last week. He didn't appreciate those. _"I think I'd like to get him a new ring," he says.

The week after their lunch, Sherlock and Molly go ring shopping. They go to six stores before Sherlock finds the perfect one, and they left one store because the worker was very judgmental. ("Is this your girlfriend?" "No, I'm shopping for my boyfriend." "…._oh._" "Come on, Molly. We're leaving.")

Finally, _finally _they found the right place and the right ring and they had _two of the exact same ring _so of course Sherlock bought both. They were perfect and he knew John would love it.

He decided to surprise John with a plane ticket. Even though John has his sister and his friends, John hates to be in London during Christmas, so Sherlock decided they were going to go to Greece for the holiday. They've never been to Greece and Sherlock thought, hey why not?

On December 23rd they got on a plane, and even though Sherlock wanted it to be a complete surprise, John figures it out anyway. The little man's not as dense as Sherlock thinks, and being practically Sherlock's right brain, John can read his love like a book. He definitely knew Sherlock was trying to keep something a secret. (_John doesn't know what the actually secret is! Muahaha!_)

They arrive at their hotel the night before Christmas Eve. They're both tired so they don't do anything that night. The next morning they wake up and go site seeing. It's cold, of course, but it's a relatively clear day for Athens and they decide to walk around.

They're both very happy. John's ecstatic to be out of London and Sherlock's happy that John's happy.

That night they have dinner at a cute little restaurant and head to their hotel after an evening of watching families go from house to house with Christmas greetings.

The next morning they wake up and it's sunny, which of course is extremely fantastic. Sherlock decides that today is the day he is going to propose to John. Without meaning to be sentimental or 'sappy', he decides that Christmas is perfect.

When he goes to the kitchen for breakfast, the woman that owns the inn notices he's all smiles. She calls her daughter, who speaks English, down to ask him why he's so happy.

Without thinking about it, Sherlock replies, "I'm going to propose tonight."

"To Mister Watson?" Mia, the girl, asks.

"Yes, to John." Sherlock smiles.

Mia squeals. "That is so exciting, Mister Holmes! What are your plans? Are you going to dinner? Are you going down to the beach? Oh, Mister Holmes, you must let me throw you two a party!"

"Oh no," Sherlock says, "Please don't fuss—"

"No, I insist! You're not leaving until the twenty-seventh! Please, Mister Holmes, everyone will be delighted!"

Sherlock smiles and laughs. He's too happy to say no. "Yes, alright. If you _insist._"

That night Sherlock and John have Christmas dinner on their balcony. Downstairs, everyone in the inn and many other people are having a feast, but Sherlock wants a quiet night.

"Sherlock, before we eat I want to give you a gift."

"A gift? What for?"

John blankly stares at Sherlock. "For Christmas, you dope."

Sherlock laughs. "Oh, I forgot."

"Did you _forget, _or did you not _kn_—"

"I _forgot, _John."

John laughs and goes into their room for a minute. Sherlock feels in his breast pocket to make sure the ring's there. He sighs when he feels it. the butterflies come back and he almost throws up, but John comes back holding something behind his back. Sherlock has absolutely no idea what the gift might be.

John sits in his seat next to Sherlock again and doesn't remove his hands from his back.

"What have you got there, John?"

"Well, Sherlock. You know I love you, right?" John smiles. "And you know…I'm just crazy about you, Sherlock. That's all. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Sherlock's smile fades into a very confuse frown.

"Sherlock," John slowly takes the thing from behind his back. "Will you do me the honor in—"

"No," Sherlock hears himself say, even though he doesn't exactly realize he's saying it."

"No? What do you mean?"

Sherlock sigh laughs. It quickly turns into a chuckle, then a full laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" John asks, confused.

Sherlock reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tiny ring bag.

"What's that?" John asks.

"It's what that is," Sherlock says, pointing at the box John pulled from behind his back.

"You're kidding," John says.

Sherlock smiles wide. "Great minds think alike, I'm afraid."

John smiles. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he says, reaching for Sherlock and pulling him into a kiss.

When they pull apart, Sherlock says, "That can't be the _nicest _thing I've ever said to you."

John laughs again. "Oh, shut up you big loon," he pulls Sherlock into another kiss.

When they break apart the second time, they simultaneously reveal their rings. They both gasp at each other's. The one Sherlock bought John (and himself) is black that shimmers a green-ish color when it's moved the right way. The one John bought for Sherlock is blue. BLUE! It's a kind of midnight blue that looks lighter in certain light and, well, it kind of glitters. Sherlock loves it.

"I love it, John," he says, letting John slip it on. His pale skin makes it glow.

"This is beautiful, Sherlock," John says.

"Yes, I thought so. I even bought myself one."

"You bought yourself one?"

"Yes, I figured they'd match."

John laughs. They kiss again.

"So," Sherlock begins. "What d'you say John?" John's sure he's a little drunk. "Wanna get hitched?"

_Yep, definitely drunk, _John thinks. He laughs. "Well with a proposal like that, how can I say no?"

Sherlock pulls John into a kiss this time. They kiss for a few minutes, then Sherlock pulls back and asks against John's lips, "Do you want to eat or do you want to—"

John doesn't let him finish. "Bed, now."

They next night, Mia and her family throw them a huge party. The whole area or people are there and everyone brings a different dish to contribute. There's so much, John and Sherlock don't even taste anything. There's also a lot of wine, which Sherlock got into, and then they '_dan-thed' _all night long.

When they get home, Mrs. Hudson will surely bombard them with wedding plans and expectations, but for that night in Greece, Sherlock and John let London go and enjoy each other.

_***Yay, Johnlock engagement! I was going to make disaster strike them, but I thought Mystrade had enough bad luck. I wanted Sherlock to ask Molly for help because I think after the fall they'd kind of have a different relationship. I was going to add something but I forgot. Anyway, thank you so much! Please review, pleeeeeease! : ) **_


	67. Chapter 67

**Couple 1**

Sometimes they fight, right? Not often, as said before, and over the years they fought so little that when they do fight, it's intense. They've gotten in, say, a dozen fights over the past eight years, and the more recent ones they just realized to walk away and cool down, you know? Gentlemen, to your separate corners. One go to the kitchen, the other get your butt in the living room. But about the fourth time they actually had enough sense to need to leave each other the hell alone.

It started over lunch. Greg called Mycroft and asked for a lunch date. For some reason, Greg was in a strange mood that lunch date and got really angry when Mycroft was rude to the waiter. But it was fine. They went back to work and it was fine.

Later at home, the annoyance continues. Just about everything Mycroft does is just irking Greg to no end. He doesn't know what's happening with himself and doesn't know why Mycroft's just being so annoying, but once they get ready for bed, the fighting starts.

"Shut up, Mycroft," Greg says.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said to shut up. All damn day you've been driving me crazy. I'm grouchy and I'm tired, and I'd like to go to sleep, but I'm sure your damn snoring with make my hairs stand on end. So if you don't mind, could you—"

"Then sleep in the living room," Mycroft says.

Greg pauses and looks at Mycroft. "Wait, what?"

"Sleep in the living room."

"Wh—" Greg's about to go off but he stops himself. "No!"

"You don't want to be near me. The way you're acting I don't want to be near you. So sleep in there." Mycroft punctuates his point by tossing a pillow to Greg. He's not really angry, but he doesn't want to deal with Greg's mood.

"I'm not going to sleep in the living room."

Mycroft shrugs and gets in bed. "Then go home."

Greg looks confused. "What?"

"I know you haven't sold your flat yet. Go. Home." Mycroft tucks his pillow under his arm and closes his eyes.

"You are unbelievable," Greg says, throwing his jeans on and pulling a shirt over his head.

"What's unbelievable is what you've lived here for, oh how long? and you haven't sold your flat."

"Shut up, ok? I just kept it for—"

"For what? Security? I'm not enough security for you?"

"No, Mycroft. Is that what you want to hear?" Greg's shouting at Mycroft's back because Mycroft's still laying down attempting to fall asleep. He pulls his shoes on and moves to leave the room.

Mycroft turns over and looks at Greg. "Where are you going?" he asks.

"HOME!" Greg shouts back into Mycroft's bedroom.

Greg hasn't been to his flat in a while, so when he gets there he stretches on the couch with an old beer that was left in the fridge. He flicks on the TV and thanks everything for the quiet he's been itching for all day.

Suddenly his phone rings loud throughout the flat. It's aaaaaaaaaaaaaall the way over there on the entrance table, so when it rings he groans. He almost doesn't get up to get it, but it's 11 o'clock at night and the paternal mind of his asks himself, "What if one of the girls is hurt?" so he gets up and rolls his eyes because it's Sherlock.

"What?" Greg answers.

"What did you do to my brother?"

"Sherlock, what are you—"

"I insulted him and he didn't _do _anything in retort. He just said, 'Ok,' and hung up. What did you do to him?"

"Why do you think I—"

"He's upset and the only time he's been upset in my entire life was that time he was angry because you insulted me—"

"You delete breakfast but you remember that—"

"And I demand to know what you did."

"What are you going to do, Sherlock? Deduce me to death?"

Sherlock sighs and shrugs. "I'm not above manslaughter."

Greg rubs his face. "You'd do that for your brother? How sweet, Sherlock, really—"

"Shut up. What did you do?"

"Why do you care?"

"He's upset. I was told this is proper."

Greg chuckles. "Fine, ok? I don't know what was wrong with me today, I was angry at everything and I took it out on him. He didn't deserve it, I know that. So now I'm at my own flat. And I don't know what to do now."

"Apologize, idiot. Goodbye."

Sherlock hangs up and Greg sulks back to the couch. It's late. He's tired. He throws himself on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath and dials Mycroft's number.

Mycroft sleepily answers the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey," Greg smiles. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"To say I'm sorry."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I am. I shouldn't have taken everything out on you, I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

Greg leans forward on his knees. "No, it's not."

"Greg it's fine, really—"

"No it's not fine, Mycroft. Ok? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been a jerk. I shouldn't have left."

"It's ok. It's over now."

"Yeah, it is. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'll let you go back to sleep, ok?"

"Ok. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Greg adds before hanging up, "I love you."

"I love you too."

The next morning, Mycroft wakes up with Greg wrapped around him. He doesn't even know when Greg got there, but he smiles and pulls Greg closer anyway.

**Couple 2**

John and Sherlock bicker a lot. A few times one or the other has actually left, but over the years they've learned to shrug and move on over most things. But some things linger. Some things linger for _days_.

They're on day two of the fight. John thinks it's a promising day, he thinks they're over it. They get called to a scene and the cab ride is silent. Once they get there, Sherlock gets busy deducing and doing as he does.

"Hey look," John calls to Sherlock from the next room. "I might have found something."

Sherlock rushes into the next room excited to find something good. Instead he finds nothing.

"Thanks John," Sherlock dryly says as he exits the room.

"Thanks? Thanks for what?"

"For wasting my time," Sherlock replies.

"Right," John stands and makes for the door. Lestrade stands back and watches. "I'm going home then."

"Home?" Sherlock asks, turning to John from the wall he's examining.

"You don't need me here. I'm leaving."

Sherlock thinks about going after him, but someone calls from the next room so Sherlock goes to him instead.

Sherlock gets home around midnight and finds John laying in their bed.

"Solved it, then?" John asks.

"Yes, I did."

"You understand why I got angry earlier, then?"

Sherlock begins unbuttoning his shirt. "I acquired the knowledge that I was rude, yes."

"That wasn't an apology, but—"

"Good, I wasn't apologizing."

John sits up. "Sorry?"

Sherlock pulls his shirt from his shoulders and moves to his jeans. "I wasn't apologizing. I was stating a fact."

"Well, then—"

"And I won't be apologizing because I wasn't wrong," Sherlock pulls his pants down. "You wasted my time, if not just a few minutes."

"Sorry? I wasted your time and that gave you enough reason to be rude to me?"

"Yes, it was. I didn't appreciate that you did that."

"You know what, Sherlock?"

"What, John?" Sherlock crosses his arms. John's momentarily distracted by the blue eyes staring at him and the black underwear hugging Sherlock's hips.

"You are an arse, Sherlock. Just an arse," John lays back down and turns his back to Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugs (he's been called worse) and heads to the door.

"Where are you going?" John asks.

"To sleep upstairs," Sherlock replies.

Half an hour later, John's laying awake staring at the ceiling. He doesn't know whether or not to yell at Sherlock or to hug him and tell Sherlock he's sorry, so for that half hour he does nothing. He rubs Sherlock's cold pillow with his warm hand and curses at himself. "Damnit!" he shouts as he practically jumps out of bed.

John stomps all the way upstairs to the never-used extra bedroom. He barges in and Sherlock looks up. He's laying on his back with iPod headphones in his ears and playing what John's assumes is Angry Birds.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks.

John grunts and pushes Sherlock over, taking his side at the left of the bed. "I can't sleep," John angrily replies.

"And?" Sherlock asks, adjusting after being pushed.

John sighs. "I need you next to me," he says.

"So you're not angry anymore?"

"Oh, I'm so angry you'll be lucky I don't kill you in your sleep."

Sherlock sets his iPod down and lays facing John. He rests his head on John's pillow, getting so close they're breathing the same breaths and their noses are almost touching. "How would you kill me if you're asleep because you're next to me, John?" Sherlock asks, grinning at this.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John says.

Sherlock rubs his nose against John's. "You love me," he says.

John tries not to smile, Sherlock notices. "No I don't."

Sherlock presses light kisses to John's lips. "You can't stay mad at me."

John smiles again but quickly frowns. "Yes I can."

"Well, what if I told you," Sherlock licks a stripe up the center of John's lips, "That I'm not wearing underwear?"

"Damnit," John murmurs, smiling wide this time, flipping Sherlock onto his back, and resting between Sherlock's legs.

"I told you, John. You can't stay mad at me forever."

"I probably could if I wanted to," John replies, kissing Sherlock's lips and feeling Sherlock smile against him.

**Couple 3**

"You're a dick," Sebastian says. "And I hate you most of the time," he adds.

"You want to know what I think?" Jim asks.

"Nope," Sebastian replies, getting in a parked cab and closing the door behind him.

Two hours ago, all was well. They were at home getting ready, well two hours and sixteen minutes ago they were naked in the shower, but two hours ago they were getting dressed. Everything was fine. Perfectly fine. Then they went to their meeting and everything was fine until Jim decided not to take the case because this man next to him? He changed Jim. And every once in a while Jim likes to tell couple to solve their own damn problems and death is not the answer, even though this time Sebastian agrees with the wife and wants to make the kill.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Sebastian whispers to him.

"I am kindly declining," Jim stands and buttons his jacket. "Thank you, ma'am." He nods and leaves the room.

Sebastian follows Jim. When they get out, Sebastian blows up in the street. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

Jim stares at him. "What?"

"We could have used that money, I could have easily made that kill."

"I didn't want you to."

"Why not?"

"Because I listen to you, doesn't that make you happy?"

"No!" Sebastian throws his hands in the air. "You're acting so weird lately, I don't even—"

Actually, this all started a long time ago. A year ago, Sebastian cheated on Jim and in conclusion, they spent some time alone. Well now they're back together but every once in a while, Jim gets in this mood where he doesn't really want to do anything or, ya know, kill anyone, but instead he wants to curl up and forget that Sebastian hurt him. He can be so sensitive sometimes.

So for a while now Jim's been acting weird. He'll randomly be really loving with Sebastian, he'll want to actually kiss Sebastian or hold his hand in public. Then he'll get really angry and want to yell at Sebastian or punch him or something. Then he'll get really…blah…and not want to get out of bed or, as stated above, kill anyone.

It's been this cycle for about a month. Sebastian's so tired of it he wants to do anything to help Jim through it, but he also wants to punch Jim or walk away because he's that tired of it. For the most part Sebastian's held his tongue and held Jim's hand through this, because this really is his fault, but he's reaching his breaking point.

And now is Sebastian's breaking point. In the middle of the street, outside the flat building of a client they could have had.

"I don't even," Sebastian continues, "know what's going on. I mean, yes I do know. But I don't really know and it's bugging me, Jim, that I can't help you."

"Well you know what's wrong," Jim says. "Fix it."

"I can't change the past, Jim!" Sebastian shouts.

Jim steps back away from Sebastian. "Then I don't know what to say, Sebastian. You hurt me, I'm still getting over it."

"You can't treat me this way, I need to help you."

"Maybe I don't want _your _help," Jim says, disgusted.

"Fine, I'm done trying then," Sebastian walks over toward a cab.

"Don't come back this time, then," Jim says.

"You're a dick," Sebastian says. "And I hate you most of the time," he adds.

"You want to know what I think?" Jim asks.

"Nope," Sebastian replies, getting in a parked cab and closing the door behind him.

Sebastian goes home around 2 AM. He's not as drunk as he could be, not with the bartender of his favorite bar knowing he's a recovering alcoholic. He goes to their bedroom but thinks wiser of it and heads back to the couch. He pulls his tie from his pocket, then his phone (which died hours ago), then undoes his belt, takes off his pants, then shirt, then lays down and shuts his eyes.

What seems like two seconds later, he is awakened by a large mass on his chest. He slits his eyes open and moans. "What the hell?"

"Oh, good," he hears, "You're awake."

"Not by my own free will." He pushes Jim off his chest and sits up. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know if you're done being a little girl, that's all."

Sebastian rubs his eyes and groans. "What time is it?"

"Three."

"God, just let me go to bed."

"Not until you apologize," Jim says.

"Apologize? For?"

"For saying really mean things, Sebastian. Honeslty, I don't know why you get so angry over things you do to yourself."

"Things _I _do? Sorry, were you in that meeting today?"

"Yes, I said no and you got angry. I don't have to say yes to every client, and—"

"I know that, but you've been acting so weird lately that I don't know how to deal with it."

"Well, as I understand, that's what people in relationships do. They 'deal with it' until it's over and they move on."

"So," Sebastian looks down. He looks sorry. "You still want to? With me?"

Jim smiles and stands. "You're such an idiot sometimes," he says, walking to their bedroom.

Sebastian smiles and follows. "That wasn't a yes."

Jim lays in bed and Sebastian slides in on his side. Jim is on his side, his back to Sebastian, so Sebastian slides an arm around Jim's chest and pulls him close.

"You're an arse," Jim says, still smiling.

"I know."

"And you smell."

"Yes, I know that too."

"And you desperately need a haircut," Jim says, turning his head toward Sebastian.

"No, I don't," Sebastian replies, attacking Jim's lips in a kiss.

_***Hello all! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, or it seems like a while, but the good news is I'm all moved in to my new house and I will hopefully have regular updates again. Thank you for your patience and for sticking around! Review, please! : ) **_


	68. Chapter 68

**Couple 1**

On vacation in Australia at his ex-wife's wedding, Greg manages to convince Mycroft to accompany him to the beach. It's beautiful outside, and Greg really wants to go. It's not like he goes to the beach often.

They go down, just the two of them, and set their towels in the sand. Mycroft _really _hates beach sand, so he made Greg bring four towels to lay on a larger area than just one or two towels would. Greg rolls his eyes and watches Mycroft sit on the ground.

"You ok, princess?" Greg jokes.

"Shut up," Mycroft replies.

Greg laughs. "Ok, I'm going for a dip. Do you want to—" he doesn't finish his question before Mycroft glares at him. "No, then. Ok." Greg takes off into the water and Mycroft watches him disappear under the waves.

Mycroft will probably never understand why Greg likes the beach so much. It's hot. There's sticky sand _everywhere. _The water is cold. There are people everywhere. And both are almost 100% guaranteed to receive a sunburn. But Greg loves it, so Mycroft tries his absolute hardest to enjoy it, however much he may not be.

After a while, Greg retreats back to their towels and flops onto the hard ground. "Ahhh," he sighs. "That was nice."

"Mmm," Mycroft replies, not tearing his eyes away from his iPad. Work needs to be done even on holiday.

"Come on, Mycroft. At least attempt to enjoy this."

"I don't want to," Mycroft replies.

Greg laughs. "It's fun." He rolls over onto his side, almost touching Mycroft, and places an arm over Mycroft's waist, trying to pull him close. He kisses Mycroft's shoulder.

"Stop, you're all wet."

Greg grins. "It wouldn't be a problem to you if we were both wet."

"I'm not getting in that ocean," Mycroft coldly says.

"Fine," Greg says. He gets off their towels and sits a few feet away in the sand.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asks, tearing his eyes away from his work to glance at Greg.

"Building a sandcastle. My brother and I would make sandcastles every vacation my parents took us on. I _always _built the best one."

"The best one? What made it the best?"

"It was the biggest, the best put together, you know? I'm just the best sandcastle maker."

Mycroft smiles. "I doubt that," he says, pressing the screen to his iPad.

"Are you saying you could do better?" Greg playfully asks.

"I am."

"Fine. I'm challenging you to a sandcastle building contest."

"Please Greg," Mycroft says. "I am above that."

Greg shrugs. "You forfeit, I win."

Mycroft laughs and quickly stands, then steps over to take a post next to Greg. "Fine, Lestrade. You're on."

For about an hour they build in silence. Every few minutes one or the other glances at the other's, but they don't say anything and don't make any moves to mess with the other. They just play in the sand in silence.

Finally Greg stands up and away from his castle. It's two feet by two feet, with high columns and seashells pressed to the sides to indicate windows.

"Cute," Mycroft says.

"Yeah, yeah," Greg circles Mycroft's. It's higher than it is wide, with a few tall columns but one large tower in the center. It's got a napkin tied to a stick at the top as a flag. "Cute," Greg copies.

"So, this was fun, but I think we can agree that—"

At the same exact time, they both say, "I won." Then they say, "No, I won."

"I definitely won, Greg. Mine is taller."

"Mine is bigger around the perimeter. Where would you put rooms in the castle?"

"They're made of sand you wouldn't put rooms in them!"

"We need to settle this. I won."

"No, I won."

Greg starts walking towards the groups of people in what seems like the center of the beach.

"Where are you going?" Mycroft calls after him.

"I'm going to find a judge!"

Mycroft sits patiently waiting for Greg. He thinks about messing with Greg's castle, but he has faith that Greg wouldn't do that to him, so he doesn't. He waits and waits and about ten minutes later, Greg returns with a nine-year-old boy.

"Mycroft this is Adam," he points at Mycroft. "Adam this is Mycroft."

Adam shakes Mycroft's hand.

"Where did you steal him from?" Mycroft asks.

"I didn't. He volunteered."

"Did you bribe him?"

Greg smiles. "I bought him an ice cream cone."

"Great," Mycroft says. "Now he's going to choose you."

"I'm not telling him whose castle is which," his attention goes back to the boy. "So, Adam, which do you think is better?"

Adam takes a long time examining both. He weighs both evenly and finally points to the shorter, wider one and says, "That one!"

"Are you sure?" Mycroft asks.

"Yes, absolutely," Adam reassures.

"Wonderful!" Greg exclaims. "Thank you, Adam. You can go back to your mum now."

Once Adam's gone, Mycroft crosses his arms and sits in the sand.

"Awww, is the princess upset because he lost?" Greg teases.

"No," Mycroft pouts.

Greg sits next to him and places an arm around Mycroft's shoulders. "Do you want me to buy you an ice cream cone?" he asks.

"Maybe," Mycroft says.

Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek. "I love you," he says.

Mycroft pouts more. "I love you too," he says.

Greg laughs and stands, pulling Mycroft with him. "Come on, princess. Let's go get your ice cream cone."

**Couple 2**

It's never pleasant when a case takes them to America. It's only happened once before now, they had to go to New York City. But now they're sent to Washington DC for a bigger case. John doesn't really know the details, nor does he care. All he cares about is that he's being dragged to _America, _and he silently wishes his and Sherlock's blogs and reputation had a smaller fandom.

John attempts to make the most of this trip, so near the end of the case (lasted seven days) he makes reservations at a hotel in Washington. He doesn't care much for sightseeing, all he wants is a few days of quiet and alone with Sherlock, far away from anyone that needs him or cares about his absence.

The first day they don't leave the room.

The second day they leave only for breakfast.

On the third day they decide they need a break, so they rent a car and head for the coast. They decide to take the almost four hour drive to Virginia Beach, spend the night there, then return to Washington to catch a flight to London. Sherlock gripes almost the whole drive, but John sees it as well worth it.

Once they get there, they change into their swim clothes and go to the beach. John's very excited, he loves the beach, but this plan makes Sherlock pout and sulk and he makes John change him, which is very difficult if the baby you're changing is almost forty-years-old and weighs barely less than you. But John manages and they go to the beach.

John gets Sherlock to get in the water after almost half an hour of protest and bribery. Sherlock only stays in for a few minutes before he throws a fit and gets out of the water.

John finds him a while later a few feet away from their towels. He's sitting in the sand, hunched over a pile of sand.

"What's that?" John asks.

Sherlock huffs and doesn't look up at John. "It's a sandcastle."

John laughs. "That's just a pile of sand, Sherlock." John looks at Sherlock and notices Sherlock's got about six piles of sand, each the same size.

"They are walls. Well, they will be."

John laughs. "You measured how big the walls are?"

"Yes, they all have to be perfect."

"Sherlock, sweetie, they don't have to—"

"I don't have to, what? Build a sandcastle to perfection?"

"You don't have to."

"But I _want _to."

John laughs and sits on the sand across from Sherlock.

"You almost sat on the west wall!" Sherlock shouts.

John laughs. "I'm sorry," he says, scooting over away from Sherlock's mounds of sand. "Continue."

Sherlock spends the next hour building his sandcastle to perfection. The walls are each one foot long, and in the center there are two tall towers. Seashells line the walls and both towers have a flag.

Once he's finished applying the second flag and he re-measures each wall, Sherlock sits back on his heels and smiles at it.

"Done?" John asks, sitting cross legged in the sand, his chin in his hand.

"Yes," Sherlock smiles at it, then John. "What do you think?"

John lazily smiles at him. Over the hour watching Sherlock he's grown tired. "It looks great."

Sherlock shuffles and sits next to John. John smiles goofily at him and appears to bat his eyelids. "John are you drunk?" he asks.

"No," John looks admiringly at Sherlock. He leans over and kisses Sherlock's neck.

"You seem drunk, John."

"I'm not," John chuckles and looks around the beach. Nobody's watching, so he lays on Sherlock's shoulder and kisses his neck over and over.

Sherlock laughs, it tickles, and he playfully pulls away. "Stop, John!"

John grabs his waist and tickles him. Sherlock laughs and jerks away, kicking his legs and accidentally kicking his sandcastle.

"John!" he shouts.

"Oh, you kicked your castle!" John doesn't sound sorry, he laughs again and continues tickling Sherlock.

"John what were you doing while I was busy with my sandcastle?"

John giggles and kisses Sherlock's neck again.

"John you smell like whiskey."

John giggles again.

"John what is in your bottle?"

John picks up a water bottle that he told Sherlock was some of that add-powder iced teas, but it's really whiskey. He grins and kisses Sherlock. "I love you," he tells Sherlock.

Sherlock laughs and rests against the sand, John half on top of him. "I love you too, my drunken idiot," he says, kissing John.

**Couple 3**

On vacation, Sebastian pretty much dictates what they do. If he wants to go sight seeing, they go sight seeing. He wants to go to a restaurant, they go to that restaurant. He wants to stay in the room all day and just lay in bed, well Jim demands they at least take one shower, but for the most part they don't leave the bed. But when Sebastian said, 'I want to build a sand castle!', Jim rolled his eyes and said no, but followed Sebastian to the beach that is right outside their hotel room.

Sebastian dives into the sand as soon as they arrive. He pulls his shirt off and rolls around a few times, soaking in the sand. "I love this," he says.

"You're like a puppy," Jim replies.

"Yes, I've been told," Sebastian sits up and begins digging in the sand. "Come on, sit down."

"No."

Sebastian shrugs and continues digging. He lays sticks down as the base of the castle, then sets to work building the walls. He builds them six inches high, then builds a moat around it. He digs so deep water begins to rise to fill the moat. Suddenly, Sebastian looks around, spots what he wants, and runs to grab it. He sits back where he was and builds four large towers at each angle of the walls, then wraps the seaweed he just found around the towers.

"This. Is. Childish." Jim says, staring at Sebastian.

Sebastian playfully throws sand at Jim. "Come on, baby," he says, "play with me."

Jim steps further away from Sebastian. "No."

Sebastian shuffles on his knees over to Jim. We wraps his arms around Jim's waist, looks up at him, and rests his chin against Jim's pelvis. Jim chuckles and looks around to make sure people aren't watching.

"Come on, get up," he says.

"Play with me," Sebastian pleads. His grip around Jim's waist tightens. "I'll do anything. I'll let you do whatever you want to me when we get back to the hotel."

Jim laughs.

"I'll take off all my clothes and lay covered in strawberries."

Jim thinks that over, then smiles.

"I'll do that thing I did that time after my sister's birthday party."

Jim's eyes grow wide. "Really?"

"Yes. I will."

"Hmmm," Jim thinks it over.

"Twice," Sebastian adds.

Jim bites his lip. "Fine," he says, pushing at Sebastian and getting on the ground next to him. "Only because I love you."

"Yeah, right, and because you love when I—"

"Could we not talk about it out loud, please?" Jim cuts him off.

Sebastian laughs and leans over to Jim. He quickly kisses Jim's cheek and goes back to his castle. Jim smiles and digs in the sand next to Sebastian.

**_*Two today? Why yes. I had some free time. Thank you for the last reviews, and you're welcome. : ) Review this one! This one was prompted by, I believe, _TheFalling _as usual and it was _building a sandcastle. _Thank you! _**


	69. Chapter 69

**Couple 1**

Mycroft sits across the table from Greg as they have their Friday night meal at whichever restaurant Greg chose. They began doing this a few months ago because Greg decided they needed to have fun on Fridays, and because he wanted something to bring to the relationship. Mycroft still doesn't think that makes sense, but he still goes along with it.

_You look so great tonight, _Mycroft thinks about saying. _Your haircut is fantastic, Greg. _Mycroft has never, ever given complements, nice ones at least, so every time he thinks about complimenting Greg, he gets nervous and doesn't say anything because he doesn't know what Greg would say.

_I love you, _Mycroft thinks. He shudders; sometimes just thinking about saying it is still surprising. _I love everything about you, Greg. _Mycroft bites his lip and smiles.

"What?" Greg asks.

"Nothing, nothing," Mycroft says.

Greg continues with his story from work.

_Your teeth, your eyes, your…cheeks. I don't know why it is, Greg, but absolutely everything about you is perfect. I love the color of your hair, and the way you smell. Somehow, you always smell like aftershave and your mint toothpaste, even though you didn't shave this morning and you haven't been able to brush your teeth since we met at home for lunch. I'm sorry for making you rush to dinner from work instead of going home first. You didn't have a chance to get a fresh shirt, but it's alright because you still look as amazing as you did this morning when we left for work. _Mycroft smiles again.

"What?" Greg asks a second time, this time with a chuckle behind the question.

"Nothing, nothing," Mycroft reassures again.

Greg goes on about meeting John for a match tomorrow.

_I spoke with my mother this morning, Greg. You don't know that I talk to her often, but I do. She asked about you. She wanted me to talk about you. And do you want to know what she asked me? She asked me what my favorite part of you is. "He has great hair, Mycroft," she said. And do you know what I told her? I told her that my favorite part of you is your heart. You love so easily, you love so quickly, and you love so much. You take everyone with open arms, even my awful brother. You could have arrested him ages ago, but you don't, and you're patient, and I know you love him. Not as much as you love me, not even the same way you love me (thank God!), but you care because you have the biggest heart I've ever seen. _

_ And my mother asked about your daughters. She's dying to meet them, by the way. I told her they're great and we can't wait for them to come to London this summer. She knows how much I enjoy them, and I do, Greg. I really love having them around. Sometimes it makes me feel like we have our own little family. And I love it. _

"Mycroft?" Greg asks, snapping Mycroft out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Your head is elsewhere, are you alright?"

_You're so concerned all the time, even when there's nothing to be concerned about. That's where that damn heart of yours comes in, isn't it? So caring, so responsible for everyone else. _

"I'm perfectly fine, Greg. I assure you."

Greg eyes him. "Alright, I'll believe you." He flashes a smile at Mycroft.

_Butterflies. You never get used to them, do you?_

"I love you," Mycroft says.

Greg smiles wide. "I love you, too."

**Couple 2**

"John, we have a case. Shouldn't take long, it sounded boring."

John replays Sherlock saying that to him two hours ago when he pulled John out of bed in the middle of a nice leisurely snog.

_That was two bloody hours ago, Sherlock. I'm cold, I'm tired, it's raining. I'm literally no use to you, can I please go—_

John's thoughts are cut off by, "John!"

John pouts his way over to Sherlock. "What?"

"Can you please tell me the answer to a question?"

"To that question? Or are you going to ask another?"

Sherlock stares at John. "I'm ignoring that for time purposes. How long would it take a frozen body to de-thaw and begin to rot, given the victim was frozen when killed?"

John takes a deep breath and thinks before giving Sherlock the best answer he can. After Sherlock's finished with him, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his spot near Lestrade's car.

_Sometimes I don't know why you ask me pointless questions. I'm absolutely positive you could answer that question on your own. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm here. I feel like I'm just here to keep you on a damn leash, to make sure you don't kill someone. Or someone doesn't kill you. At this point right now, I might be the one to kill you. _

"John!" John hears again. He takes a deep breath and gets off the car he's leaning on and goes over to Sherlock.

"What?"

"We're looking for a man, late thirties, whose next victim will probably be a teenager."

"What're you tellin' me for?" John asks, feeling as though complete sentences and words is useless.

"They won't listen to me."

John looks back at Lestrade's team. "I wonder why," he whispers to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," John looks back at Sherlock. "So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to help me before it's too late. That kid could die, John."

"How are you sure it'll be a teenager?"

"The first victim was a middle aged man, the second a twenty-some-odd year old woman. The next, if I'm not mistaken, will be a teen of either gender."

"Ok, but how do you know that Sherlock? Two victims surely can't be enough for you to—"

"Five years ago there were three murders that were in the exact same pattern. Five before then, there were three others. Five before, three others."

Lestrade appears behind John out of nowhere. "Wait, you think these are connected with those?"

"I don't think, I know."

_How do you do that? _John thinks. _You just know, huh? You smug arse, and I mean that in the nicest way, you could be wrong you know? Why don't you stop and let other people do their job so I can go home and take a nap? I don't even know why I'm here. I just act as your white flag for when nobody can take you anymore._

"Well? Let's go then," Lestrade says.

"I'll be off then," John says. "Stay out of the way."

He turns to leave, but Sherlock grabs his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"I just said, to stay out of the way."

Sherlock looks confused. "I need you," he says.

_God damn it, you big git. Just when I think I can get away, you give me three little words that make me nearly have a heart attack? Can you repeat that, love? I want to save it as my ringtone so that when you're missing and you send me a late night text, I'll really know that just because you're out being a mad man, you still need me around. You need me, right? Just like I need you. _

"Come on, John," Sherlock says, pulling John's sleeve. "We're losing time! The kid could be in danger as we speak!"

John gives a sideways smile as he's pulled through the crime scene. _Look at you, you care. That's what I love most about you, it's that no matter how much you pretend that it's just work and that it's _fun, _you're so concerned for the kid. You always are. You say neat, and you say it's fun, but I know deep down that if you let the kid die, you would think it's your fault. And that's caring, Sherlock. That's what having a heart means. Sociopath my arse, you're just as scared as the rest of us. _

Sherlock pushes John into a car and gets in on the other side after telling the cabbie where to go. He gets in and stares out the window without saying anything. John knows he's thinking.

"Where are we going?" John asks.

"Lab. I have dirt samples to run."

John nods and looks out the window again. After a minute, he looks at Sherlock, who is staring very intently out the window. John reaches between them and grabs Sherlock's hand. Sherlock squeezes it, but doesn't look at John or do anything else. John knows that that simple squeeze said, "Thank you for being here, John."

_Heart, _John thinks.

**Couple 3**

_You're so great, _Sebastian thinks as he stares at Jim as he sleeps. _You're just what I need sometimes. Just someone to be with, some to have sex with and maybe someone to have a good time with. That's why I like you, Jim. You're just here._

Sebastian touches Jim's face and hopes Jim doesn't flinch.

_ You're nice to come home to, to be honest. Sometimes I feel down and it's nice to come home to someone that wants me around. I've never had that before. I've never had anyone before. Certainly not a man. You're a first for me in so many ways, and sometimes I want you to be the last._

_ That's weird, isn't it? That's something I'll never say. That's something men don't think. Well, some men. You've told me you love me and when I hear it, that's what I hear. That you want me to be last. That's crazy, isn't it? because that's not what you mean. But sometimes I hear that. _

Jim breaths deep and Sebastian holds his breath. The slightest movement will wake Jim, and Sebastian doesn't want that. It's rare that he's up before Jim and he wants some alone time with his thoughts.

_I like you right now. You're quiet. You're never quiet. Even when you're silent you're not quiet. You make up all the noise in the whole room. Is it fear? When you walk into a room of people who know you, you're the one shouting in the center. Everyone's silenced by you. I'm not afraid of you, and I think that's what you liked about me first, right? That I was the first person who told you no. Sometimes no is something you need to hear._

Sebastian slowly runs his fingers through Jim's hair and lightly tugs the ends.

_ I like the way your hair looks when you just wake up. It kind of sticks up in every direction and you're so self conscious of it, but I think it's adorable. I like the way you smell when you're asleep. You smell warm. Does that make sense? It doesn't, but I think you smell like warmth and sleep. I like the way your mouth looks when you're asleep. Barely open, but not closed. I don't know why. It's just something that stands out about you. _

_ We have fun, Jim. We're good for each other because nothing's really that serious, is it? If one of us wants to walk away, we can. There's no pressure. This is easy. That's why it's great. Because we're just…us. _

_ But I think I'd be sad if we weren't together anymore. Again. Last year when we broke up for those months and you dated that man, I didn't like that. I didn't think I was jealous, but the more I think about it the more I know I was jealous. You are mine and you will be until we're over, and yes that does make sense. I can be yours, too, if you want. _

_ Wouldn't you be sad if we weren't together? You claim to love me, that's got to count for something, right? Of course it does. Love is a big thing. It's a big emotion. It's means something._

_ What we have…it means something. _

_ Well that was sudden. A while ago I was thinking that we're easy because…well, we are. We have sex and it's good and that's all, but all of a sudden I'm thinking about how we mean something. We do, right? Oh, please wake up now. I need to talk about this. _

_ It's all because of the way you sleep. You look so perfect and warm and I want you to be in me as the other half of me and be with me forever because I love you._

Sebastian stills the hand he didn't realize he was stroking through Jim's hair.

_Oh fuck, _he thinks. _I love you, Jim. _

_***First of all I need to say that I'm awful and I'm so sorry that it's been practically forever since an update. I've been away without my laptop and just got home last night, and it's hard to write these long stories on my phone. So I'm so sorry. Don't hate me! : ( **_

_***Second, this chapter is basically just things one would never say to the other. Like the sappy OOC things that are left usaid. I might make the other three men POV but I'm not sure. Should I? I could. Anyway, review. I love you all ! : ) **_


	70. Chapter 70

_***Warning for Johnlock sexytimes.**_

**Couple 1**

It all started a couple weeks ago when Greg's squad was called from Mycroft's office. Some murder, yada, yada, and instead of picking Greg as head DI, Mycroft chose Dimmock. Words were exchanged, there was a lengthy fight, and now it's weeks later, the case is going nowhere, Sherlock is ready to kill Dimmock, and Mycroft completely regrets his decision. All Greg can do is sit back and watch, though, because if Mycroft suddenly changes his mind it'll look bad. So he doesn't say anything.

Well, almost.

You see, Dimmock is a smug little arsehole (Greg's words, not mine) who cannot stand Sherlock Holmes and can now not stand his brother Mycroft. Of course if Dimmock says something about Mycroft, though, Sherlock's not really going to do anything. Though he will stand up for his brother nine times out of ten, Sherlock doesn't want to waste his time with someone like Dimmock. Instead he says nothing and just works when told to work.

Gregory Lestrade, however, will say something.

So one afternoon, some of the team is sitting around chatting, waiting for Sherlock, when Dimmock and Sally begin discussing the case. Greg gets up to excuse himself when Dimmock says, "And that Holmes bloke, I cannot stand him. Freak's brother, right? Must run in the family."

Sally bites her lip and looks over at Greg, who has now let go of the doorknob and slowly turned back around to look at Dimmock.

"What was that?" Greg asks.

"What's it to you, Lestrade? This conversation is between Donovan and I."

"I hear you talk about someone superior to you, someone _better_ than you, it involves me pretty quick."

"You're not my superior officer when it comes to this case, Lestrade. I'm _your_ boss."

"And he is_ your_ boss. You do not talk about someone like that, do you hear me?" Greg is very angry now, on the verge of shouting. "Mycroft Holmes is a better man than you'll ever be."

Dimmock snorts and looks at Sally. She quickly looks away from him. "What, are you shaggin' him or something?"

"As a matter of fact," Greg says, "I am. And that is the only reason you got this case, you little prick. And you will respect Mr. Holmes because he is your boss and my boyfriend and I take it very personal when someone attacks him, especially when he isn't around. He does more for this country than you ever will, he does more for you than you'll ever know. He works his ass off to keep the country together, he works harder than you do and you claim to catch criminals all day. What are you even sitting around here for, you lazy git. To sum it up, Dimmock, Mycroft Holmes is probably the greatest man in this side of the world and, on top of all of that, he is a fantastic boyfriend."

Dimmock places his hands on his hips and uncomfortably looks down at his shoes. His cheeks are a rosy red tint, maybe for insulting Mycroft in front of Greg or from the embarrassment of being told off like a child. Either way, Greg's pleased, Sally's trying not to laugh, and everyone else in the room is very, very silent.

Greg continues, "You will never, ever say anything like that about him or Sherlock ever again, do you hear me?"

"Yes," Dimmock breaths out through clenched teeth.

"Yes, what?"

Dimmock rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Greg says before exiting the room.

Later, at home, Greg does his best to make it up to Mycroft for Dimmock's harsh words, even though Mycroft has no idea what happened.

**Couple 2**

_Oh John, John, John, what do you do to me? _Sherlock's eyes squeeze shut while he feels the slick of John's tongue travel slowly down his body. They've been going at it for a good hour now –and by going at it, I mean basically the longest session of foreplay ever— so Sherlock's just about ready to get it all over with because damn it's been eternity.

_My heart, John, my heart is beating so quickly because of you. Because of want for you. Desire. Sheer, raw desire. _John dips his tongue into Sherlock's belly button; he tongues it and Sherlock's unsure anything so plain has ever felt so sexual.

_Desire. I never had it before you. I never needed it, I never wanted it. But you…you opened up an entirely new world to me. A new world to investigate and learn and grow expertise in, and I'm still only a beginner. You have so much to teach me, John Watson. _John slowly drags his tongue out of Sherlock's belly button and down, down, down, briefly pausing to suck on the bit of skin between belly button and cock.

_Now all I feel is desire. All the time, even when I'm working. Married to my work, I claimed. Quickly it turned into, 'Move over work, I'm cheating on you with the single greatest human of all time, even better than me, can you believe it?'. _Finally, finally John reaches Sherlock's cock. He breaths hot over the head, then swipes the tip with his whole tongue, then slowly takes the head into his mouth. He lightly sucks and Sherlock's fingers dig into John's hair and Sherlock's heels dig into the mattress. Sherlock lifts his pelvis up, trying to thrust into John's mouth, but John holds him down as if trying to tell Sherlock to relax and he can take it from here.

_I trust you, John. Go ahead, do what you want with me. I'm yours, every inch. If you wanted to wind me up and leave me here, aching for you, I probably wouldn't complain because you can literally do anything you want to me. Bite me, whip me, lick me, suck me, finger me, fuck me, I don't care; as long as it's to me and only me. _John hollows his cheeks while sucking Sherlock and takes more of Sherlock into his mouth. Sherlock digs his fingers deeper into John's hair and moans.

_I trust you with everything, John. My life, my body, my brain, my experiments, my work. Anything. Take it, it's yours. I belong to you. I love y— _John relaxes his throat and takes Sherlock to the hilt, his hot breath coming from his nose and tickling Sherlock's skin. _Jesus, John, you made me lose my train of thought. That mouth of yours…nnnggg…that mouth. If all you were was mouth I'd die happy. _John lets up, grabbing hold of the shaft and stroking Sherlock while he pays more attention to the head.

_That's not true. I'd die miserable and alone if all you were was mouth because I love your brain and your heart and your everything that makes you you. You're so amazing John, and I should tell you more but…nnngggg…you never give me a chance because you're always telling me I'm amazing. From now on, I'll tell you you're amazing more, ok? I promise. Anything for you. You're perfect. _

"Hey," John whispers. Sherlock didn't even notice John wasn't sucking anymore.

Sherlock opens his eyes and looks up. "Hmm?"

"You're thinking too much."

"How do you know that?"

John chuckles. "Because I've been sucking you for quite some time now and you're not doing anything."

"Oh," Sherlock says. "Sorry."

"It's fine," John crawls up Sherlock and rests on top of him again. "What are you thinking about?" John asks, burying his face in Sherlock's neck and nipping lightly just below his ear.

_How amazing you are. How much I love you. How much I need you because I don't want to be alone; not again John, I can't do it again. Not after having had you, knowing what it's like to be a part of a whole, to be a part of your whole. You're everything to me and I don't tell you enough. _

"Nothing," Sherlock says.

John lifts his head and smiles at Sherlock before giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Well, let's just take that mind of your offline, ok?"

"Yes," Sherlock whispers.

John reaches to the night stand and grabs lube before distributing a fair amount to his fingers. He leans down and kisses Sherlock while pushing Sherlock's legs apart and reaching between them.

_Come on, John. Make my brain go offline. _John locates Sherlock's hole and slowly pushes his middle fingertip in. _That's it, right there. More, please, more. _John pushes more of his finger into Sherlock. _Oh god, faster. I don't care if it hurts, just—_John pushes his finger into Sherlock to the second knuckle. _There you go, you fantastic creature. I love you so much, dear god John my heart hurts because I want you so bad. _John pushes his finger all the way in. _Right there, just a little more, curl your finger there, JohnJohnJohn there right—_John curls his finger and presses against Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock's fingernails dig into John's back. John circles the gland and slowly begins to pump his finger in and out of Sherlock, hitting Sherlock's prostate each time. "I love you, John—oh my god—right there—yes!" 

**Couple 3**

_I missed your stupid face, _Jim thinks. He's been talking to Sebastian at the bar at Sienna's Christmas party for a few minutes now. Sebastian just gave Jim one of his sideways, unintentional flirting smiles.

_Why do you do that? I'm supposed to be mad at you. You cheated on me, you prick. This isn't supposed to be easy. You're supposed to beg. Do I want you to beg? Huh. I didn't realize I did. Might be hot. I'll suggest it for later, if there is a later. Are you dating anyone else? I want to ask, but I don't want to know the answer. Did you knock up the little tramp you slept with? Part of me hopes you did so I can point and laugh, but the other half of me wants to kill you for even making it an option. _

_I can't believe you cheated on me. After everything we've done, everything we've been through. We have a home, Seb. Well, not anymore. I sold that one and moved. I couldn't be there anymore. It hurt. You actually hurt me. I hate you for it. _

_But I still love you. I still love everything about you. I love your dumb, sparkly eyes and your dumb, perfect smile. I love your plump lips and your stupid shaggy hair. Seriously man, you know where the barber is. I love that you bite your lip when you're nervous, like now. Do I make you nervous? Yes, I do._

_We were happy, weren't we? I thought we were. If you weren't you should have told me. We could have fixed things or we could have walked away like adults. If you didn't want to be with me anymore, you could have said so. I'm a grownup. I could handle an easier breakup, one that doesn't involve cheating and girls and…all of this. We could have moved on and I could have stopped missing you, but as it is now…I feel like we weren't done. We weren't complete. We haven't ran our course. And who knows? We might never run our course, but Seb, that's something we need to find out together. Just you and I._

Sebastian excuses himself to the restroom and Jim goes outside to think. He finds the swing they were sitting on when they broke up. He sits and looks at the mountains below.

_I feel like we've come full circle. This is where it ended, this is where it'll begin again. That is, if you want it. Just want it, idiot. I want you to so you should. I want you, Sebastian Moran._

Jim feels hands rest on his shoulders. He shudders out of surprise. "You scared me," he says. _I'm glad you're here._

"I'm sorry." _Don't be. Not for that. Not for coming out here. _

"That's ok. I was stuck in a trance watching the mountains." _And lost in my thoughts of how badly I need you._

"They are beautiful," Sebastian says. He's still pushing Jim.

_You sap, Sebastian. You're pushing me on a swing. Who does that? Not Army colonels. Not bad arse assassins. Not handsome ex-boyfriends of consulting criminals._ "Are you really pushing me on a swing? Is that what you're doing for me right now?"

"I would do anything for you," Sebastian says without missing a beat.

_Jesus, Sebastian. When did you turn sweet? _"Would you come back to work?" _Please dear god please._

"Yes."

_Thank god. I'm pretty sure I would've shot you right here right now. You owe me, Moran. You don't deserve to come back to me, but I'll ask anyway. Because I want you and I need you and I love you, I really do. _ "Would you come back to me?" he asks.

"Yes," Sebastian quickly says. "Wait, what?"

_Please pay attention. _"I'm ready to try again. I was hurt and angry, but now—"

"You're not angry anymore?"

_Idiot. _"Oh god no, I'm still angry. Wouldn't you be? I think I have the right to be angry for a very long time."

"Yes, I agree. Which is why I'm surprised."

"I'm still angry, it's just now I'm ready to move past it."_ Because I love you._

_***Hey guys! Thanks for enjoying last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one. You're all so sweet. You got a bonus johnlock sex. I hope you like it : ) **_

_***PS I know Greg's wasn't his thoughts but that's ok, and I know Moriarty is pretty OOC but that's ok. I think he needs Sebastian as much as he needs a clean Westwood. **_


	71. Chapter 71

**Couple 1**

Everyone has bad days, and everyone gets grouchy on his or her bad days. Greg Lestrade gets especially grouchy at work because even he knows he works with a bunch of idiots. But that's fine, because he has Mycroft to go home to.

Yeah, well.

Mycroft's not very pleasant to go home to when he, too, is grouchy.

One storms in right after the other. The Holmes is first and he's fuming. He's not one to take work home but sometimes days are that bad and work is that stressful.

When he was young and he had a bad day, Mycroft would come home and his mood would put Sherlock in a mood. Often Sherlock mimicked Mycroft's actions, emotions included. So their mother would go to the kitchen (which was rare), a fix them both a mug of warm milk, and after they drank it they'd usually take naps. Warm milk is a habit Mycroft's kept his whole life, so when he gets home he fixes himself a glass of milk and throws himself onto the couch.

Not five minutes later, Greg walks in. He takes one look at Mycroft, one look at his mug, and asks, "Bad day?" His tone is not sympathetic, he's more stating a fact than asking a question; a fact he doesn't care for.

"Yes," Mycroft looks up at him from his glass. "You, too?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Ok," Mycroft gets up to follow Greg into the shower. He feels slightly better from the milk, so he sits outside the shower and listens to Greg.

"We got a new guy in the unit today. Ex-soldier. Tall bloke; big, built. Looks like the soldier John should be, you know?" Mycroft nods, fully knowing what Mycroft means. "I only wish he were half the man anybody else is, even Anderson. Awful bloke, can't stand him already. He is _horrible, _Mycroft. Loud, obnoxious, thinks he's better than everyone. A real arse. I want to get him transferred, to be honest. I hope he's not with us long." Greg sighs and turns the shower off. He gets out and asks, "How was your day?"

Mycroft takes a deep breath and sips his milk.

"That bad?" Greg asks.

Mycroft nods.

"I'm sorry, love."

Greg holds his arms out and Mycroft stands in front of him. Greg takes Mycroft in his arms and hugs him tight.

"At least we're home now," Greg says.

Mycroft nods.

"I love you," Greg says against Mycroft's neck.

"I love you, too," Mycroft replies, rubbing circles into Greg's back.

**Couple 2**

Some days are rough. Depression's not new for Sherlock, but it's still new that there's someone there to share it with him. When Sherlock has a bad day, John has a bad day.

For the first few months of their relationship, Sherlock was occupied enough that he didn't get to his low place. They were happy and he had old cases Lestrade happened to set aside (not that Lestrade knew he was going to come back). So Sherlock kept busy, which was great.

Then the high of his new relationship began to fade and all the cases were solved. That first morning he knew something was wrong, he didn't make much of it. He felt the blackness coming, there's always that feeling deep in your stomach. But he ignored it. John took him to dinner and that was that.

The next day he didn't feel like getting out of bed, but that was ok because John was off so they spent the entire day cuddling. That was fine. John's heartbeat next to his kept the pain low and everything steady.

The third day, today, is when his mind has begins to take over.

_John went to work. _

_ He'll be back._

_ Right? _

_ Yes. _

_ He always is._

_ He always comes home exactly at the right time._

_ He'll be home any minute._

Sherlock decides to wait in bed. John will find him there. He doesn't move, maybe a muscle or two sure, but he doesn't move from John's side of the bed. He lays there with his eyes closed, but awake, and doesn't move.

_He'll come. _

_ He always does._

Sherlock waits for two hours. He knows it's been two hours, his internal clock continues to tick even though time is slowing down.

He feels dark. There's no other way to explain it but dark. He sees color usually. All too bright, really. Everything is too bright and too _there, _you know? But he knows that if he opens his eyes everything will be black and the world won't be moving.

Sometimes he wishes the world would stop moving, even though he'd never ever say that out loud, especially to John. Because the way John would hear it is Sherlock saying he wishes suicide would've worked, or that time he tried to overdose it would have actually happened. That's what John hears. That Sherlock hurts, that Sherlock is unhappy. But the world, sometimes it just needs to stop.

_Breathing. _

_ Boring._

Sherlock can't remember the last time he ate or properly slept. He knows it's been a few days and for a second he thinks maybe that's why he feels bad, because over the past few months he's gotten used to dreaming and carbs, but at the same time he knows that's not it. He just…doesn't feel.

_It would be so easy, _Sherlock thinks. _The gun. I know where it is. Drugs. I know where to get them. Buildings, bridges. London has many. _

_ But John will be here. Soon._

Sherlock can actually feel his heart slowing down. He feels himself stop breathing. He feels the world go black. He feels lightheaded, lack of oxygen. He feels his brain shut down…

"Sherlock, Sherlock!"

He hears before he feels. After he hears John he feels John, right there next to his head. John's so loud, Sherlock knows he's yelling. And he's right there, next to his ear.

John's hands are on his shoulders and he's pushing Sherlock onto his back. Sherlock knows he's breathing now, he realizes he only fainted. John feels heavy and he's pushing on Sherlock's chest.

"Sherlock, come on baby, wake up."

_John's calm. Now he's calm. He knows I'm breathing. _

And then the sudden realization:

_John's here. _

_ John's always here._

Sherlock opens his eyes and John's there, in his face. John's hands are cradling his neck, his thumbs on Sherlock's cheekbones.

"Sherlock, are you ok? You were asleep."

"Mmmm," Sherlock mumbles.

"What's wrong?"

_He knows. John just knows. I don't have to tell him that I feel a certain way, he just knows._

Sherlock doesn't say anything, can't find the words, so instead he pulls John to him. John lets himself be pulled and rolled onto his side so Sherlock can wrap himself around him.

_In the past there's not been anyone here, but now John is here. John is here and he can make it perfect again._

**Couple 3**

Sometimes there are just days when they really hate each other. Spending every moment with the same person day after day gets really, really old. These two really don't have anybody else other than Sebastian's sister, so of course there are just bad days.

The day started with a kill. Sebastian had to get up extremely early (never good) and when he got home Jim was just in a mood. Everything Sebastian did was annoying, everything Sebastian did was wrong. Sebastian brought him the wrong coffee, Sebastian wore the wrong tie. Jim just can't stand Sebastian at all for some reason today.

Sebastian pretty much sits back and lets Jim criticize him. He drinks Jim's wrong coffee, he takes his tie off a delicately puts it away. He generally just stays out of Jim's way.

After a while of silently and angrily watching television, Jim gets a phone call. He leaves the room and Jim can hear him yelling at a client. He's sure it's not the client's fault, and he wants to take the call instead, but he sits back and listens to Jim being rude and inconsiderate to someone else. When it's him, sure he doesn't like it. But when it's some innocent person that's catching Jim's wrath, well Sebastian can't really stand that.

After Jim yells one last time and hangs up, he storms into the living room. He shouts at Sebastian to move, so Sebastian moves. He shouts at Sebastian to turn the TV off, Sebastian turns the TV off. After, Sebastian stands and walks to their bedroom. He puts a different tie on, he slips on his shoes, and goes back to the living room. He grabs his coat from the hook and makes his way to Jim on the couch.

"Where are you going?" Jim demands.

Sebastian leans down so he's face to face with Jim. He takes Jim's chin in his hand and makes Jim look at him. "I love you, Jim, but you're fucking pissing me off." He kisses Jim then leaves.

Jim sits on the couch and feels worse. He starts to feel sorry, really bad for treating Sebastian like that, but he knows it's too late.

Sebastian wanders around for a while before it begins to rain. He figures he'd better get home anyway, so he heads back towards home. He passes a coffee shop and goes inside to get Jim the right coffee.

He gets home and Jim is watching TV. Sebastian takes it as a good sign. He takes his coat off and goes to the couch, then hands Jim his new coffee.

"What's this?" Jim asks.

"The right coffee."

Jim sighs. He stands to face Sebastian. He takes the coffee. "You didn't have to."

"I know, but I knew you were having a bad day."

"I'm sorry," Jim says.

Sebastian smiles. As much as he'll never admit it, he loves hearing Jim say he's sorry. He places one hand on Jim's hip and pulls him close, then kisses him. "All better?" Sebastian asks when they break apart.

"Much," Jim says, sipping his coffee.

Sebastian goes to the kitchen without realizing Jim followed.

"It's cold," Sebastian hears.

He sighs. "I'm not going back." He turns around to see Jim giving him a sly smile that he says he's just winding Sebastian up. Sebastian laughs and throws a hand towel at Jim.

The day turns out pretty fine after all.

_***I'm horrible. I know I haven't written in eternity and I'm so sorry. Please keep reading! Don't leave! You all are amazing! **_

_***Bad days was prompted by a guest, I don't know who you are, obviously, but I hope you're happy. : ) **_


	72. Chapter 72

**Couple 1**

Mycroft's dealt with bullies his whole life. First it was just that he was different, unique. When Mummy said he was special, she wasn't just saying that; he was very special. Then Sherlock was brought home and he was made fun of for having an adopted brother. Then Father left and he was told Father didn't love him. Then he grew up and learned how to fight back, and nobody liked him because _he _was the mean one. Then Sherlock got older and he was, of course, The Freak, and Mycroft's still bullied for that.

As a kid, very early, Mycroft learned not to care what others said. It was easy when Mummy took him out of school and home-schooled him, then he didn't have to deal with bullies. By the time he went back to school he was old enough to not listen to those kids. If someone called him a name, he'd ignore it; if someone insulted him, he'd fire back with a clever retort.

By the time Mycroft was sixteen or seventeen, he was bullied for an entirely different reason. Kids were mean, of course. But teens are straight up heartless.

Sherlock's first tutor was the first person that called Mycroft _that. _Mycroft didn't even hear him say it, it was Sherlock that asked Mummy later that night.

They were sitting at dinner that evening, Mycroft, Sherlock, and Mummy. Mummy asked Sherlock about that morning's lessons, but instead of talking about lessons, Sherlock asked, "Mummy what does poof mean?"

Mycroft didn't really understand either, but Mummy's face turned angry. "Where did you hear that?" she demanded from Sherlock.

He shrugged.

"Did Harry say that?" Mummy asked. Harry was Sherlock's tutor. Sherlock shrugged again. "Tell me right now, Sherlock Holmes, or you will go to bed without dessert."

Sherlock pouted. "Harry said it, Mummy."

"Did he say it to you? Did he call you that?"

"No," Sherlock said. "He said it after Mycroft left the room."

"Was he calling Mycroft that?"

Sherlock shrugged. "It sounded like it."

Mycroft sat back and just listened and observed. Mummy began to look very, very upset. "What does that mean, Mother?" Mycroft finally asked.

"Nothing, sweetie. Will you get the cake from last night from the kitchen?"

Mycroft stood and went to the kitchen. Sherlock happily sat at the table and waited for his cake.

Months later, Mycroft heard that word again, amongst others. It was after he and Sherlock's next tutor go to the movies alone one night. Older kids cornered them on their way to Mycroft's car and called them names and tried to fight them, but Mycroft ignored them and they made it to Mycroft's car to drive away.

So Mycroft's pretty much known how to deal with bullying his entire life. Greg, however, is pretty new to being bullied.

He was a very likeable kid (not to say Mycroft wasn't). He was popular, had many friends, played sports, did well in school, and he was pretty intimidating. He was taller and bigger than most kids his age, and he was pretty much good at everything, so he had no problem beating someone to prove a point.

Greg liked to protect the smaller kids against bullies. If he saw another kid being bullied, he'd go over there to take care of it. He didn't agree with name calling or picking on someone for being different, he was always taught to embrace differences and be your own person. It's something he's carried with him his entire life.

Greg is very, very new to a very horrible form of bullying: homophobia. As told above, Mycroft has been exposed to it since he was sixteen, but Greg's never had a boyfriend before Mycroft so he doesn't know what it's like. But he learns very quickly in their relationship.

They've been together three months and everything is new. Going on dates is frequent, which is great. But then something happens that makes Greg…skeptical.

In the past three months they've been able to try out every restaurant in London (well not every, but many, many restaurants). Tonight they're going to a new one that neither have ever been to. They get there and they get seated, and Mycroft noticed people staring at them. Greg doesn't notice at first, but after a while he does.

"Why is everyone looking at us?" Greg asks.

"I don't know," Mycroft answers, but he has his suspicions.

His suspicions are proven correct when the owner of the restaurant comes over to them and asks them to leave.

"Why?" Greg demands.

"We're getting complaints—"

"About?" Greg asks.

Mycroft begins to stand to leave. "Come on, Greg."

"No, what are you receiving complaints about?"

The owner awkwardly clears his throat. "About, uh, you and your boyfriend."

"I'm sorry," Greg says, "What are we doing wrong?"

"Well, uh…you are…uhm…"

"That's right. Nothing. Come on, Mycroft."

Greg and Mycroft leave the restaurant and go straight home.

"I'm sorry, Greg."

"Sorry? What are you sorry for? For trying to enjoy a nice dinner with me? It's these fucking people, Mycroft. These fucking close minded people—"

"I know, Greg," Mycroft mutters while Greg rants. "I've been dealing with it my entire life—"

"I don't like it. I don't think I can handle it. I can't—"

"You can't deal with this? So you just want to call it quits over one restaurant?"

"What? No, of course not. I didn't mean—"

"Do you not want me, a man, because some people are mean? Because if you don't, you should probably get out now and find a nice woman that people won't criticize you for."

"Mycroft, no. I'm just angry, ok? Things like this shouldn't happen to anybody. I hate the thought of either of us being treated this way, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, ok?" Greg reaches over to Mycroft and kisses him. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's ok. It upsets me, too, but it's something you learn to get over. Trust me."

"I can't believe people…so…awful."

"And that actually wasn't bad," Mycroft says.

They obviously don't go to that restaurant anymore, and they don't really get much homophobic hate over the years, but they both know it's there and it exists in the world. It's something Mycroft just shrugs off, but it's something Greg wishes to change, even though he thinks it'll be years until it's all over. Nonetheless, when they have an encounter with someone mean, they get past it together.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock deals with people saying mean things to him all the time. Daily someone calls him freak or weirdo or crazy, which is fine. Like Mycroft, he learned at a young age to ignore people.

John learned that people in this world aren't nice to gays at a young age. First his sister came out, which was all fine and good for her, but he saw her lose a lot of friends. Even their father wasn't very happy with the idea. Then John met a boy he had romantic feelings for, and once people found that out, a lot of people didn't talk to him either. He didn't mind much, though, because he wanted to be with whoever he wanted to be with.

Then Sherlock and John found each other, fell in love, and they deal with things like homophobia together.

A lot of people they work with will say mean things about Sherlock, that's a given. He's used to it, even though John doesn't like it. John stands back and doesn't say anything, but one day someone takes it too far.

The new guy on Lestrade's team is a prick. Everyone thinks so. Sherlock doesn't usually give much attention to people he hates (he won't talk about them outside work) but even this guy earns a few choice words on the cab ride home.

The second scene with him isn't any better. He questions why Sherlock is even there, and at the wrong time. Him, Sally, and John are standing near Lestrade's car watching Sherlock work and Lestrade chase him around attempting to remember what John is saying. John watches admiringly from the car.

"Why is he even here?" the new guy asks.

"Who?" Sally asks.

"That detective bloke," air quotes were around detective. "Why do you all let fags like that hang around here—"

John snaps out of his trance of watching Sherlock and turns to face him. "Sorry, what did you just say?"

"I was just saying that I don't know why they let him hang around here—"

"No, what did you say? Did you call him a fag?"

Sally tries to grab John's arm. "John, let it go."

He shrugs her off. "I will not let it go. That is not something you say to or about people, do you hear me?"

"Look man, I was just—"

John punches him in the face. Hard, obviously, John doesn't fuck around when it comes to assaulting someone.

Lestrade is over there before John can make another punch, jumping on John to hold him back. "John, what are you thinking!"

"Let me go, Lestrade!" John shouts.

"John, I'm going to have to arrest you for assaulting a police officer!"

John stops struggling and lets Lestrade arrest him. They go to the station and Lestrade leads John to an interrogation room.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

John takes a deep breath. "He called Sherlock a…"

"A what, John?"

John bites his lip. "He called Sherlock a fag."

"He did?"

"Yes."

"Well then, no use here," Lestrade says, closing the file he had and heading to the door. "You're free to go."

"What? Why?"

"That's the fourth complaint I've heard of him saying things like that. He's no use to me here, he's done."

John stands to go. "Sorry, Greg."

"Don't apologize to me, I'd have done the same thing."

John finds Sherlock in Lestrade's office. John takes his hand and leads him out of the station. They get into a cab and head home, all while John doesn't let Sherlock go.

"Why did you punch him?" Sherlock asks once they're home.

John takes off his jacket and says, "He just said some mean things."

"About me?"

"Why do you think that?"

"You wouldn't have done anything had it been about you. It was something mean about me."

"Ok," John sits on the couch. "It was mean about you. Can we drop it?"

Sherlock sits next to John. "What'd he say?"

"Please just drop it. I don't want to talk about it any more."

"Just tell me and I'll drop it."

John sighs and rolls his head to look at Sherlock. "He called you a fag."

"Oh," Sherlock says. "That's all?"

"What do you mean that's all? That's a horrible thing to say, Sherlock."

"There's been worse."

"Please don't tell me. I don't want to kill anyone today."

Sherlock smiles and pushes John to lay flat on his back and lays over John, resting his chin on John's chest. "I like when you stick up for me."

"Why? Makes me look big and strong?" John runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"No. I like it because nobody ever has before."

John smiles and tugs Sherlock close. The two doze into a very restful nap.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian does not take being bullied well. He was a child that nobody really knew what he was capable of, so everyone sort of feared him, therefore he didn't get bullied often. Which is good. He'd probably have kicked a ton of ass as a kid.

Jim's always been quiet. He never got into any mischief as a kid, well he never got caught. He didn't get mixed up with bullies or any kids, really, but he was so quiet that everyone sort of just forgot about him and left him alone. Nobody really paid him any attention.

Now Jim gets attention each time he and Sebastian go out, not that he really minds. Not only are they two men on a date, but they are two strikingly beautiful men. Jim knows how attractive his boyfriend is and honestly, the more people that look and know they can't touch, the better. He loves it. He loves the attention.

Sebastian doesn't mind the attention either, unless it's for all the wrong reasons. He really, really hates being discriminated against because he and Jim want to be together. He's found that many people are accepting and fine and leave it alone, but a lot of people don't like them because they're together.

One area in which they receive a lot of hate is work. They've found that a lot of potential clients don't like them for being together. Which is what's happening now.

"So, Mister Smith, we can have you out of the country by Wednesday," Jim says, ending his offer.

"I'm not really sure anymore," the client says. He sounds very angry.

"I'm sorry, did I do say something wrong? Is there anything I can—"

"No. I just don't think this is going to work out. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Jim and Sebastian exchange confused looks, then look back at the client. "I'm sorry, Mister Smith, can I just ask—"

"No. Please leave."

"Ok. If anything changes, please—"

Smith turns his head and lifts his chin at them. "I don't wish to work with anyone like you."

"Excuse me?" Jim asks, confused.

Sebastian stands. "Come on, Jim. We won't be doing business here anymore."

"But, Seb—"

"No. Let's go." Sebastian grabs Jim's elbow and hoists him out of his chair.

"What's the problem?" Jim asks.

"Nothing, sweetie," Sebastian says, pushing Jim towards the door. "Just some hatred towards us, nothing unusual from pricks like this."

"Excuse me, Mister Moran. Do not come into my office—"

"Do not be in this world if you can't do business with men like us. As a matter of fact, you have no room to even talk. You want us to fake your death so you can get away from your wife and children, you heartless arsehole. You have no room to tell us—"

Jim pulls on Sebastian's arm. "Come on, Seb."

"No. I'm not done. You have no room to tell us what is right and wrong in a relationship. We have a better relationship than you'll ever have with anyone. You want away from your _children _so you can fuck whores whenever you want. Don't look at me like you're better than me because I want to be with a man, someone I love. Pig." Sebastian pushes Jim now. "Come on, love, let's go."

Smith speaks up from his spot behind his desk. "Do not come into my office and tell me off, Moran. I'm calling security to have you escorted off the property."

"Fine, call them. But if you even think one more thing," Sebastian lifts his jacket to show the gun in his pants.

Smith picks up the phone and calls security. They're right outside the door in an instant. They take Sebastian's arms and move to escort him out the door.

"Fucking queer," Smith mutters.

Sebastian hears him and tries to get out of security's arms, but he gets held tighter and they forcefully push him towards the door.

Once downstairs, the security guards let Sebastian go with a warning. He angrily walks down the street away from the building.

"You ok?" Jim asks.

"Fine. You?"

"I'm fine."

They walk for half a block and Sebastian calms down. Finally he grabs Jim's hand, which isn't unusual but Jim didn't expect him to. Jim squeezes his hand and Sebastian looks at him and smiles.

"Lunch?" Sebastian asks.

"Yes, please," Jim says.

Sebastian stops and pulls Jim to a halt. Sebastian places one on Jim's neck, leans in, and kisses him. It's a light kiss, but all in all very loving.

"What was that for?" Jim asks.

Sebastian shrugs and smiles.

_***Someone gave the prompt 'homophobia' and I don't know who it was, but it's a topic I hate so I did it. I thought the men that don't care what others think wouldn't care that they'd be called names or people would hate them, but the other three would be angry at it. I know it's a problem for a lot of people and I really, really hate it. I think I'm going to do one of what the men would be like during a pride weekend or something. Wouldn't that be so funny! To me it would be. I'll see. Thanks for the last reviews, please review this one! **_

**_***OH. So on tumblr I'm doing a giveaway, and I don't know if many of you have tumblr, but if you want to enter you can look at the page of what it is. Well they're cool t-shirts I make and if you win you can choose any design I'll print, which are shown on this page: _staygolden – teamusa dot tumblr dot com forward slash giveaway_ and if you want to enter, send me a PM on here and I'll enter you. There's a Sherlock print and other things like Harry Potter and Glee and Disney, and a few more. So let me know, guys! _**


	73. Chapter 73

**Couple 1**

"Seriously, Mycroft, I can do it," Greg says. He has no problem literally rolling his sleeves up and getting dirty. He's a man, that's what men do. Well, not Mycroft.

Two days ago the pipe under their bathroom sink broke and for the last two mornings, they've had to use the spare bathroom. That's fine and all but Greg's getting really annoyed because he knows what's wrong with the pipe and he can fix it, but Mycroft won't let him. They called a plumber when it broke and they've been waiting for someone to come for two days. The pipe isn't running or anything, Greg knows it'd be an easy fix, but Mycroft won't let him.

"Why won't you let me?" Greg asks.

"Because it's someone's job to do it."

"Yeah, but it'll save us money—"

"It's fine," Mycroft dismisses.

They leave for work and Greg lets it go, but when he gets home he uses their restroom and gets annoyed that he can't wash his hands in their sink. He stares at the sink for a minute and finally says to himself, _screw it_. He changes into an old t-shirt, gets his tools, and gets to work.

Apparently Greg just_ thought_ he could fix it. It was a lot more difficult than he thought and after half an hour of struggling, water began leaking from three different parts of the pipe.

"Fuck, shit, fuck!" Greg keeps yelling at himself.

He struggles with it for about ten more minutes, getting nowhere, before he hears, "Greg? I'm home!"

"Shit!" Greg shouts. He scrambles out from under the sink, hitting his head in the process.

"Greg, are you in here?" Mycroft turns the corner to the restroom and sighs. "I told you not to."

"I'm sorry. I thought I could." Greg sits back and looks at the water spewing out of the pipe. He grabs the back of his head then looks at his fingers; he's bleeding a little bit.

"Here, let me look at it." Mycroft sits on the toilet behind Greg while taking his phone out.

"Who are you calling?"

"A faster plumber."

An hour later the pipe is fixed, and Greg got a stern talking to about not doing things like that on his own.

**Couple 2**

It is very shocking to know that it's Sherlock who likes to do things on his own. John learned this within his first month of knowing Sherlock, but he's gotten used to it. Sherlock likes to keep busy and solve things, so if there's something not working, he'll solve the problem and fix it. He'll probably make it better. But sometimes it doesn't work out so well.

It's the middle of summer and their flat is disgustingly hot. They haven't had an extremely warm day all season but today it is terrible. Sherlock decides he needs some air flow (John's at work) so he opens all the windows in the flat.

Well almost.

One window in the living room is stuck closed. Sherlock tries and tries but it won't open, it won't even budge. He instantly decides it's broken and he needs to fix it.

He stares at and examines the window for almost half an hour. Then, he sets to work trying to fix it again. He checks the lock on it, it's unlocked. He makes sure it's not bolted shut. He oils the sides to make sure it can slide, but it still doesn't budge. This goes on for half an hour after the initial staring at it for half an hour.

Sherlock begins to grow angry. Most of the time he can fix any problem they have, but this damn window is not being his friend.

He tries to open it one last time, this time pushing up too hard that the wood begins to crack off the glass. He shouts in frustration, then out of anger picks up his shoe and throws it at the window.

Just then, John stands in the street trying to get their front door open, only to be narrowly missed by a flying shoe and shards of glass. He looks up at the now broken living room window and sees Sherlock gazing out it with wide eyes.

"Sherlock!" John shouts.

Sherlock quickly disappears from the window and John quickly opens the door and darts inside.

Mrs. Hudson throws her door open, and as John hops the stairs she shouts, "What's going on up there?!"

John opens the door to their living room and Sherlock is nowhere to be seen. John checks the kitchen, their bedroom, bathroom, spare bedroom, and Sherlock's nowhere to be found. He goes back to their room to change his clothes when he hears a sneeze from the wardrobe. He opens the door to see Sherlock sitting inside the closet. John pulls Sherlock out and as Sherlock is about to kiss him to apologize, Mrs. Hudson pops her head through the doorway and says, "You owe me a window, Sherlock!"

So Sherlock gets the glass replaced the next day, but still can't open the window. Two days after that, they're sitting watching television, when John announces he's a bit warm. He stands to open a window, and just as Sherlock's about to tell him that that window doesn't open, the window opens. Sherlock huff and storms to his room. John follows even though he cannot figure out what the heck is wrong with him.

**Couple 3**

One time Jim did the dishes. There is only a 'one time' because while doing the dishes, he managed to flush a spoon down the garbage disposal.

This was half an hour ago and in that half an hour, he's panicked, wearily told Sebastian, and listened to Sebastian mutter, "This is why I do them," and "You shouldn't even be in the kitchen without supervision."

"Got it yet?" Jim asks.

"Does it look like I've got it yet?" Sebastian replies, squirming his hand deeper into the drain.

"Sorry," Jim says with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can give.

"Stop looking at me like that," Sebastian says. He nods towards the dish soap. "Hand that to me."

Jim hands the bottle to him and Sebastian pours it down the drain over his hand. Using it as lubricant, he shimmies his hand further into the drain.

"I can feel it," he says. "Can't…quite…ughh…" he grunts in frustration. "Grab it…"

Suddenly there's a loud clank and the spoon falls into the pipe.

"Damnit!" Sebastian shouts. He tries to pull his hand out, but he won't budge. "Fuck," he says.

"What? What is it?" Jim asks, panicked.

"My hand is stuck."

"What do I do? What do you need me to do?" Jim asks in one breath.

"First, you need to calm down."

Jim takes a deep breath.

"Ok. Now go grab the butcher knife."

"What for?"

"I'm going to chop my hand off."

"WHAT?!" Jim shouts.

"I'm kidding!" Sebastian laughs.

"Jesus, Seb!"

Sebastian laughs. "Ok, I'm sorry. Just…uhm…" Sebastian looks around the kitchen for something he can use. "Oh, get me a spatula. The skinnier one."

Jim fetches it and after struggling for ten or fifteen minutes, Sebastian pries his hand loose. He holds his sticky wrist and wiggles his fingers for a minute.

"Alright, now for the spoon." Sebastian leaves the room and fetches his tools. He comes back and gets on his knees in front of the sink.

"What are you going to do?"

"Open the pipe up. Shouldn't be difficult."

"You can do that?" Jim asks, amazed.

Sebastian chuckles. "Yes. What else was I going to do?"

"I don't know. It's just a bit…"

"A bit what?" Sebastian looks up at Jim.

Jim looks down at Sebastian. Jim gulps. "A bit hot."

Sebastian smirks. "Why? Because I'm a big strong man and you can't do the dishes?"

Jim smiles. "Oh shut up."

Sebastian ducks under the sink and gets to work loosening the pipe. Jim stands behind him and watches.

After a few minutes, Sebastian says, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Staring at my arse."

Jim glances at Sebastian's arse. "I wasn't."

"Now you are."

Jim looks away. "I was not."

Sebastian chuckles. He silently works for a few more minutes, but after the few minutes he needs a different tool. He pulls out of the cabinet, leans over, stretches to reach it, and goes back. His shirt rides up his back in the process and he doesn't bother to fix it, leaving the view of the dimples in his lower back.

Jim does stare. He licks his lips and every few seconds looks away, but his eyes always find Sebastian's skin.

"Will you hand me a screwdriver?" Sebastian asks from under the sink.

Jim doesn't hear him.

"Can I have a screwdriver?" Sebastian asks again.

Jim doesn't pay attention.

Sebastian sits up quickly and looks at Jim.

"Huh?" Jim asks.

Sebastian sideways smiles. "I asked for a screwdriver."

"Oh. Sorry." Jim grabs it off the countertop and hands it to Sebastian.

"You ok?"

"Fine."

Sebastian gives him a smile and disappears again.

After a few minutes, Sebastian sits back, turns over, and lays into the cabinet on his back. His t-shirt rides up again and Jim can see the trail of hair from his belly-button that disappears into his jeans. He licks his lips three times before he even notices.

"Hey, can you help me for a second?" Sebastian asks, sitting up enough to see Jim's face.

"Huh?" Jim asks.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt down. "Stop being distracted, I need your help."

Jim falls to his knees. "With what?"

"I need you to hold this pipe, this one right here. You can reach—" before Sebastian can say that Jim can reach it from where he's sitting, Jim is laying half over Sebastian and holding the pipe in place. Sebastian lifts his head a tiny bit and looks right into the face of Jim. "Uh, ok. Just hold it here and I'll tell you what to do next."

Sebastian makes sure the water valve is shut before he unscrews the second half of the pipe. He takes his time to make sure not to break any important bits. Jim holds the pipe perfectly still, he himself doesn't move an inch, and Sebastian momentarily wonders where Jim's other hand is, thinking that he can't be comfortable there, before Sebastian feels Jim's fingers wiggling their way under his belt. Sebastian's startled, but not enough to drop anything.

"Jim could you—" Sebastian feels Jim's hands moving south— "Could you—" Jim moves south still— "Uhm—" Jim's fingertips brush the bulge in his underwear— "Jim get your hand out of my pants!"

Jim pauses. "Why?"

"I'm a little busy!"

"But…you're so…"

"I know, ok? Just give me a minute. Please."

Jim sighs and pulls his hand out of Sebastian's pants.

"Thank you. Now, put your hand right here because the spoon might just fall out and I don't want it to hit me in the face."

Jim removes his hand from the pipe Sebastian's now holding in place and fixes it where Sebastian said to. His free hand works Sebastian's jeans button open.

"Jim." Sebastian warns.

"Hmm?"

Sebastian sighs. He wiggles the pipe out of the way and waits for the spoon, but it doesn't fall.

Jim unzips Sebastian's jeans.

Sebastian sighs again and holds the pipe with one hand while sticking his fingers into the pipe with the spoon.

Jim pulls the elastic of Sebastian's underwear off his skin.

Sebastian grabs the spoon and pulls it out, then quickly pushes the pipe back into place.

Jim presses his hand into Sebastian's underwear.

Sebastian grunts with frustration because the screws suddenly won't fit right. He struggles and quickly tightens them into place.

Jim runs two fingers over Sebastian's growing cock.

Sebastian turns the water valve back on. Nothing is leaking so he chalks it up as a successful mission. Without warning, he quickly stands. He throws the spoon into the sink, grabs Jim's shirt collar, pulls him off the floor, presses him tight against the countertop, and sticks his tongue into Jim's mouth. He grinds once against Jim, making him moan, then pulls Jim to their bed.

For about a month after that, Jim purposefully breaks things to get his Mister to fix it, but Mister Fix-It sure doesn't mind.

**_*Hello! So _tarcy _suggested plumbing/DIY things, and I think you were expecting more bickering so I'm sorry that nobody bickered much. I think I wanted MorMor to bicker but it really really didn't turn out that way. : ) _**


	74. Chapter 74

**Couple 1**

Mycroft likes their flat to be perfect. This includes entire matching bathroom decorations, perfect dishes, a well put together living room, and a perfect bedroom. That's all fine and good to Greg, but his philosophy is that nobody else ever sees their bedroom, why does it have to be _so _perfect.

In their perfect bedroom, there's two dressers, symmetrical bedside tables, a rug, a chair, and a bed with a ton of pillows. At first it didn't bother Greg, the pillows. He figured if Mycroft's paying for their furniture, he can buy whatever he wants. But after a while those damn pillows just got to him. He was tired of taking them one by one off the bed every night, tired of placing them one by one in order in the morning. Mycroft didn't mind the pillows, he bought them, but he also left it to Greg to make and unmake the bed each day.

So the pillows have been there for six months and Greg's just about had it with them. He's pretty steamed from a hectic day, and all he wants to do is fall into bed. However, he cannot because those damn pillows.

Greg goes to their room and sighs at the pillows.

"What is it?" Mycroft asks.

"Why the _fuck_ do we have so many damn bloody pillows?"

Mycroft's eyes grow wide. "Problem?"

"Yes I bloody well have a problem! Why the fuck do we have so many damn bloody pillows?!"

"They're for decoration."

"For who?! You and I are the only two who come in here! I don't want 'em, why are they so damn important?!"

"I didn't know you had an issue with the pillows."

"Do you want to know how I feel about the pillows?"

"Please, tell me."

Greg reaches over onto his bedside table, grabs his pocket knife, and stabs one before Mycroft can protest.

"There! That's how I feel about your damn pillows!"

"Greg, that was highly unnecessary."

"Oh, I'll show you highly unnecessary." He takes his knife and slices the pillow again, perpendicular to the last cut. He rips the pillow in two so the feathers fly everywhere.

"Greg!" Mycroft shouts as Greg grabs another and stabs it, too.

"I hate these pillows!" He stabs and rips the second one and motions for another.

Mycroft climbs over the bed and takes the third pillow from Greg, but Greg holds on and they mutually rip it in half. Feathers fly over them and for a moment Greg forgets it all and wants to say sorry, that is until Mycroft hits him with a larger pillow.

"What the hell?!" Greg shouts.

"Stop. Ruining. My. Pillows!" Each word is punctuated with a hit of the pillow.

Greg grabs a larger pillow for himself and hits Mycroft with it. Mycroft's not ready for it and once it hits him, he falls onto the bed. He scrambles to get up and hit Greg back, but Greg hits him again and he falls to the bed.

By now Greg is having fun. He doesn't mind that he ruined the pillows, he'll buy more for Mycroft to make it up to him. But he's enjoying it and he wants Mycroft to, too.

Greg hops on the bed and tackles Mycroft, rolling them both in a bed full of feathers. Mycroft pushes Greg onto his back and sits on Greg's stomach, then picks up the fluffiest pillow and makes to hit Greg with it. Instead, he pauses, grabs Greg's knife, makes a slit in the pillow, then hits Greg with it, making feathers fly everywhere.

Greg laughs and after a minute, Mycroft does too. Mycroft falls beside him and they stare up at the ceiling, watching the feathers fly everywhere above them.

"I'm sorry I ruined your pillows," Greg says.

"Don't be. I suppose they are a bit much."

"So we can get rid of them?"

"Yes, I wouldn't be apposed to it."

Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft's cheek, then they cuddle together and fall asleep amongst the ruins of fluffy pillows.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock really shouldn't get drunk.

He gets silly when he's drunk.

Of course, John loves it.

"Silly Sherlock," he keeps saying while ruffling Sherlock's hair.

At least their in the privacy of their own flat. The few times they do get drunk together, they're in their own flat. Which is fine, good. No cabs to take to get home, no pedestrians to meet on the street. Just each other and their good friend Jack Daniels.

Around midnight, Sherlock decides it's time to get sexy. John doesn't think he's being remotely sexy and he's very much on the drunk side, so everything is all just pretty funny.

Sherlock takes John's shoulders and steers him towards their bed. Once there, he pushes John down onto the bed.

"I'm going to be thhhh-ooooo th-exthy for you, John."

John giggles and watches as Sherlock delicately and drunkenly unbuttons the top button of his shirt. John momentarily wonders why they don't drink in more comfortable clothes, because getting naked is really hard, but then Sherlock gives up and rips his shirt open. John laughs out loud at that when Sherlock's face goes from seductive to angry because _not another shirt! _

"Th-top laughing, John. Thi-th ithn't funny."

"Sorry, love." John sits up and watches Sherlock trip out of his shoes. John moves to sit against the headboard and Sherlock turns around to get his pants off. "Why did you turn around?" John asks. Sherlock doesn't answer. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you," John takes a pillow and throws it at Sherlock as hard as he can. Miraculously, it hits the skinny man in the back.

Sherlock quickly turns and eyes John. "Did you juth-t hit me with a pillow?"

John nods.

Sherlock jumps onto the bed, grabs a pillow, and hits John with it. John screams with laughter and grabs a pillow to reciprocate, making Sherlock laugh. John darts at Sherlock, grabbing him around the knees and making him fall onto his back on the bed, then straddles his thighs and tickles his ribs.

"Thtop, thtop!" Sherlock shouts, trying to kick John off. John grabs a pillow again and hits Sherlock with it over and over. "No fair!" Sherlock shouts.

Sherlock gains control of his arms and reaches for John's hip. Either side of him is a sensitive area and it always makes him laugh when Sherlock tickles him there. This time is no different and John doubles over Sherlock with laughter. Sherlock keeps tickling but instantly pauses when John bites his neck. "Did you juth-t bite me!?" He shouts.

John giggles. "Yeah."

"It'-th on!" Sherlock shouts. He pushes John off him, stands again, and hits John continuously with a pillow. John laughs and squeals, making Sherlock laugh and squeal.

"Ok, ok, I give up!" John shouts.

Sherlock drops his pillow and falls to his knees. "Do you th-urrender?"

"Yes, yes!"

Sherlock smiles and kisses John. "I win."

"Only because I gave up!"

"I th-till win!"

John wraps his arms around Sherlock and he holds him close as they fall asleep.

**Couple 3**

Sometimes Sebastian doesn't like to work. He takes vacations just like anyone else with a job, and he expects to vacation while on vacation.

This week he's taken vacation and hasn't done shit. He showers whenever convenient, he sleeps a lot, and he hasn't left the house almost at all. He's very happy, he needed the relaxation, but Jim is just about up to _here _with Sebastian's laziness. It's day six and Jim thinks Sebastian's stuck to the couch.

Jim gets ready to head out to see a client. Every few minutes he pops his head out of their bedroom to talk to Sebastian.

"Could you shower today, please?" he asks while pulling his pants up.

Sebastian shrugs.

"Could you maybe go to the shop?" he asks while sliding his shirt on.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"Could you clean up a bit around here? You've got tea cups everywhere," he says while tying his tie.

Sebastian briefly glances at the cups, but doesn't move to do anything else.

"I'll be back later. Please do something," Jim says while leaning over Sebastian. "I love you," he says, leaning down to kiss Sebastian goodbye.

"Love you too," Sebastian says, accepting the kiss.

Jim leaves and Sebastian doesn't move. He's on vacation and that's what you do while on vacation: nothing. Today he doesn't even want to get up to get another cup of tea, instead he sits thirsty, alone on the couch.

Jim comes home almost four hours later. He smiles as he opens the door and frowns as he sees that Sebastian hasn't moved.

"Really, Seb?"

"What?"

"You didn't do anything?"

"Of course not."

"Ughhh!" Jim shouts in frustration. Sebastian's lounging around drives him crazy. He rips his tie off and goes to their room. He puts his tie away and sits on the bed for a minute. "Lazy git," he murmurs to himself. He looks at their pillows and gets an idea. He picks one up and returns to the living room.

"What have you got there?" Sebastian asks.

Jim doesn't answer, instead he steps right in front of Sebastian and without any warning, very forcefully hit Sebastian with the pillow.

"Oi! What was that for?!" Sebastian tries to sit up, but before he can, Jim hits him again. Very hard. "What is in that pillow? Rocks?!"

Jim laughs. He hits Sebastian again.

"Stop it!" Sebastian shouts.

Jim hits him again, and again, and again, and again. He's very quick, which surprises Sebastian.

Sebastian darts at Jim, but since he's being thrown off by Jim hitting him, Jim easily jumps out of the way and onto the coffee table. Being above Sebastian, he hits him over and over in the head.

"Stooooop!" Sebastian whines.

"Make me!" Jim shouts, hopping off the table and running to their room.

Finally Sebastian gets his bearings and runs after Jim. Once Sebastian catches up, he tackles Jim onto the bed. "What's the big idea?!" he shouts in Jim's face.

"Just getting you off the couch," Jim says while laughing.

Sebastian cracks a smile. "Oh you were, were you?"

Jim laughs more.

"Think it's funny huh?"

"Yeah," Jim chuckles out.

"Yeah?" Sebastian reaches above Jim and grabs a pillow, then hits him over the head with it.

They both laugh and begin hitting each other evenly with the pillows. They laugh and laugh and mess around for nearly half an hour before they are completely out of breath from running around and laughing. They fall onto the bed side by side.

"That was fun," Sebastian says.

"I know. I just wanted you off the couch."

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about vacation days."

Jim curls up next to Sebastian. "Don't act like your job is all that difficult."

Sebastian lifts an arm to let Jim lay on it. "I don't know, my boss is kind of a dick."

Jim bites Sebastian's armpit. Sebastian laughs and jerks away. "Ow!"

Jim smiles and Sebastian turns onto his side and pulls Jim close, biting his nose, then kissing his lips.

_***So I just noticed that my stories abruptly stop and that really bugs me so after this I'm going to try to fix that. **_

_***The next chapter up will be the 75th chapter. GEEEEEEEZ guys thank you so much. That's just…so many chapters. I look for fics to read and if they're over like three chapters I don't read them, so I'm really thankful that I have 74 now and people still read it! So thank you. **_

_***I think the next chapter might start weddings, what do you think?**_

_***Oh and someone anonymously asked on tumblr to write more smut. My reply: ok. **_

_***Oh and this pillow fighting prompt was asked by a guest so thank you that was quite creative and cute : ) **_


	75. Chapter 75

**Couple 1: Marriage**

It's a cold morning in the middle of December, two weeks before Christmas. The snow is lightly falling and though it's cold and wet out, the sun is shining. It smells like Christmas in the air in that it's just that season, you know? There's a magical feeling all through London and everything just feels jolly.

Days exactly like this are Mycroft's favorite kind of days. He likes the cold rather than hot, and he actually enjoys the snow. First of all, it's not rain. Rain is just wet and muddy, but snow is beautiful. It reminds him of spending mornings in the yard in the snow with Sherlock when they were young. Their mother would bundle them up tight in winter clothes and coats, and right as they stepped outside, it never failed that Sherlock would have to pee. Remember this, Mycroft always smiles.

This morning he wakes up early, way before Greg. He goes to the kitchen and turns on the coffee machine, then goes to the restroom to wash up a bit. By the time he is done, the coffee is ready. He pours himself a cup and goes back to their room.

Mycroft thinks about getting back into bed, but he doesn't want to disturb Greg. Greg had a long evening and Mycroft knows he needs rest. So instead of getting into bed, Mycroft stands in the doorway and watches Greg for a minute. When the snow hitting the window catches his attention, he moves to the window and watches it. It's cold by the window but he doesn't mind, he just sips his coffee to make up the heat.

"Mmmmycroft," Mycroft hears from behind him.

"Hmmm?" Mycroft replies, turning around.

"What're you doin'?"

Mycroft steps towards his side of the bed. "Just watching the snow."

"Thought you didn't like snow," Greg says, sleep still in his voice.

Mycroft sets his coffee cup down and kneels on the bed. "Today is different," he says, falling onto his stomach onto the bed and cradling the pillow under his head.

"Yeah?" Greg presses closer to Mycroft. "What makes today so special?"

"I don't know, I just feel different today." Mycroft leans over and gives Greg a quick kiss.

"A kiss before I've brushed my teeth? You are different today." Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft's shoulder.

Mycroft smiles and closes his eyes. Greg nestles his face into Mycroft's armpit. Mycroft chuckles and slightly pulls away. "Tickles," he says.

They fall into a light sleep pressed together. They nap for maybe fifteen minutes before they wake up at the same time. They don't untangle from each other, instead they lay in the silent warmth.

Finally Mycroft talks. "What have you got planned today?"

"Mmmmm," Greg thinks. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

Greg thinks again. "I'm off today, I've got nothing on."

Mycroft doesn't say anything for a few minutes, instead he just looks at Greg. After nearly five minutes of just staring at each other, Mycroft says, "Let's get married."

Greg stops everything, possibly stops breathing. "What?"

"Let's get married."

"Are you…"

"I'm serious, let's get married today."

Greg laughs in disbelief. "Where?"

"Courthouse."

Greg laughs again. "You can't be serious."

"I am serious."

"Why? Why today? What brought this on?"

"We've been engaged for a year and a half. It's about time, that's all."

Greg pulls away from Mycroft and lays on his side, Mycroft follows and lays on his side facing Greg. "It's just…so sudden." Greg takes a deep breath. "I mean, my daughters aren't here. Our parents, our friends—"

"We can do something special with them later. For Christmas. My mother probably thinks we got married ages ago, so it doesn't matter. Would your parents even come? And you're my friend, my truest friend. You're the only person I want to attend my wedding."

Greg takes another deep breath and thinks it over for maybe two minutes. Mycroft's heart nearly stops because today it really matters, for some reason. Each day for the past year and a half of engagement, it hasn't mattered much. They haven't put much thought into it. But today…today it just matters.

"What the hell," Greg says, "Let's do it. Let's get married today."

Mycroft smiles. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," Greg smiles at Mycroft.

Mycroft attacks Greg with a kiss. He wraps his arms around Greg's shoulders and kisses him deep even though Greg hasn't brushed his teeth. It doesn't matter. What matters is just Greg. Greg pulls Mycroft on top of him and Mycroft lets himself be led.

Three hours later they get out of bed. It's only 8 AM, but they figure they'd better get to the courthouse quick. Friday's are often busy days and they want to be sure to get in to see a judge today, along with the rest of London.

Mycroft hops out of bed and showers first. He's quick and it surprises Greg. Mycroft wants to rush, though. He wants to be sure to get in today.

While Greg's in the shower, Mycroft starts breakfast. He gets them toast and makes them eggs, it's a quick and easy breakfast, and he figures after they can go for a nice lunch.

Mycroft is very excited and very nervous. He's never gotten married before, he has no idea what to expect. His logic mind tells him that being married to Greg won't be much different from the current arrangement. They've got rings already, they live together, Mycroft practically adopted Greg's daughters ages ago. Mycroft tells himself there's nothing to be nervous about, there's only excitement because Greg Lestrade will soon be his mister.

_My husband, _Mycroft thinks as Greg walks into the kitchen while drying his hair with a towel. He bashfully smiles and bites his lip while looking away from Greg.

"Hey," Greg says, pulling Mycroft's chin to look at him. "What's that smile for?"

"Nothing," Mycroft says.

Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft, then sits at his place at the table and eats his eggs.

After breakfast and getting ready, they head to the courthouse around 9. It's not a far ride, but it seems to take forever today. Mycroft can hardly stay in the cab he's getting so antsy. Greg silently reaches over and grabs his hand, and Mycroft feels calm.

Finally they make it to the courthouse. Mycroft jumps out of the car while Greg takes his dear sweet time climbing out. Mycroft's already at the door by the time Greg reaches the steps.

"Slow down," Greg says. "We've got all day."

"Not if there are queue's and people and court and—"

Greg presses a finger to Mycroft's lips. "Mycroft, calm down. It's fine."

Mycroft nods and opens the door for Greg. They find where they need to be and sit and wait. A judge can't see them until 11, so they've got a little under two hours to wait.

They sit and wait and wait and wait. Mycroft's legs hop up and down with anticipation, while Greg sits and relaxes. Every little while, Greg reaches over and squeezes Mycroft's knee, letting him know it's ok and he doesn't need to be nervous. Mycroft doesn't hear it though, he's nervous as nervous can be.

"Why are you so nervous, Mycroft?" Greg finally asks.

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know."

"You do. Now tell me."

Mycroft breathes deep. "I don't know. I just am."

"You don't need to be nervous, it's nothing to be nervous about. You just say 'I do,' and bam! Bound to me for life."

Mycroft gives a nervous smile.

"Oh it's _that _that makes you nervous, eh?"

"No, no! It's not that," Mycroft looks at his watch. "Can't they go any faster?"

"They're busy, Mycroft. What's the hurry anyway?"

Mycroft glances at Greg, then at his watch again.

"We have ti—"

"We don't have time, Greg! We need to get this done today!"

Greg's face goes straight. "Are you dying or something?"

"What?! No!"

"Then what is it?"

Mycroft sighs and looks around, avoiding eye contact with Greg. "I just want to get it over with. No, no, not in a bad way. I just want it to be done so we can be married. I want to get it done today so we don't have to wait any more and so that you don't…"

Greg looks at Mycroft. "I don't what?"

Mycroft looks at Greg. "Change your mind."

Greg laughs at this. "Is this what today is all about? You don't want me to change my mind? About what? You?"

Mycroft nods.

"Oh baby," Greg places an arm around Mycroft. "I'd never change my mind about you. I love you, ok? I will marry you. Whether it's today or Monday or in March, I will. Ok?"

Mycroft nods.

Greg kisses him, and as they're pulling apart they hear, "Holmes, Lestrade!"

Greg smiles. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Mycroft says, standing with Greg and walking towards the judge's office.

"So you two want to get married, eh?" the Judge asks.

"Yep," Greg responds. Mycroft looks at him with wide eyes. "I mean, yes sir."

The Judge eyes Greg. "I see. How long have you two been together?"

They both think about it. At the same time, they say, "Nine years." and "Eight years."

The Judge looks between them. "Which is it?"

They look at each other. Mycroft says, "It was the summer that—" and Greg says, "It was when Lucy was—" then they look at the judge and at the same time say, "Ten years."

The Judge looks at them. "Wow. Quite some time, boys. Why today, then? For marriage?"

"We don't know, sir. It's just about time," Greg says, grabbing Mycroft's hand.

"I'll say," the Judge says. He stands and steps around his desk, right in front of Greg and Mycroft. "Join hands, please," he says.

When they touch, Mycroft feels butterflies. He doesn't think he's been so nervous and excited his entire life, and he deals with big country things.

"Do you, Gregory Lestrade, take thee Mycroft Holmes—"

"Yes."

The judge looks at Greg. "What?"

"I mean, yes sir."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"Oh," Greg looks at the judge. "Go ahead," then quickly he adds, "Sir."

"Thank you," the Judge looks back down at his book. "Do you, Gregory Lestrade, take thee Mycroft Holmes as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, by the court of law?"

"I do."

"Do you, Mycroft Holmes, take thee Gregory Lestrade as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, by the court of law?"

"Yes, I do, of course," Mycroft excitedly says. He smiles wide when Greg squeezes his hand.

The Judge slams his book shut. "Well that's it. You may kiss your groom, boys."

Mycroft and Greg smile at each other. More nerves than their first kiss linger on this one. They lean forward slowly, achingly slow, like the world froze and they're moving from leftover momentum. Finally their lips touch and it's magic. It's warm and loving and they feel it, they're husbands now.

When they pull apart, they smile at each other. They're having a very sentimental moment of looking into each other's eyes when the Judge coughs to get their attention.

"Yes, sir?" Mycroft asks.

"Sign here, please," the Judge hands Mycroft a pen.

Mycroft signs and hands the pen to Greg, who signs and hands the pen back to the Judge. The Judge smiles and instructs them to take the license to the clerk and she'll do everything else necessary.

"Congratulations," the Judge says, shaking their hands.

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you for your time, sir."

They leave the room and do as instructed.

Fifteen minutes later, they're leaving the courthouse hand in hand.

"Well?" Greg asks.

"Well, what?"

"Feel any different?"

"Not yet, do you?"

"I probably will later."

They walk down the street with silent smiles. "Well, Mr. Lestrade? Lunch?" Greg asks after a few blocks.

"I'd love some, Mr. Holmes."

Greg frowns. "Don't call me that. Mr. Holmes is Sherlock."

Mycroft laughs and nudges Greg's shoulder.

"I'm joking!" Greg says, pulling Mycroft close to him and kissing his cheek.

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Lestrade walk happily to lunch and live happily ever after as husbands.

_***How was that for closing the story! : )**_

_***So here's Mystrade wedding. A little OOC Mycroft never killed anyone.**_

_***Johnlock and Mormor up later. : ) **_


	76. Chapter 76

**Couple 2**

John usually gets up before Sherlock. Today is no different, no matter how much of a busy day they have. He gets in the shower and takes his time knowing Sherlock isn't going to get up soon. When he gets out, he starts the sink water and starts to shave. By now it's time for Sherlock to get up. He hangs his head out the door, blindly shaving himself, and calls to his love, "Sherlock, get up. We need to taste cakes today." Then he pops his head back into the bathroom and resumes shaving.

"No," Sherlock shouts in reply.

John pops his head out the door again. "We've got to taste wines." He goes back to the bathroom.

"Ughhhhh!" Sherlock shouts at him. "Nobody does that!"

John pops his head out again, this time with a toothbrush. "We do! Now let's go!"

Sherlock groans and punches the pillow. "We have, about, three guests, John! I don't want to feed them or entertain them!"

John walks out of the bathroom for good. He's dressed in jeans and black t-shirt.

Sherlock catches site of him and turns over. "Well, hello gorgeous," he says, sitting up a bit and reaching for John's belt loops.

"No, no!" John swats Sherlock's hands away. "I'm clean, I'm ready. We've got to go."

"Come on, just a bit, please?" Sherlock pouts and grabs John's hands.

"No. Come on. Up," John pulls Sherlock so he falls forward and his face plants into John's stomach.

"Mmmm," Sherlock sounds. He nuzzles his nose into John's belly button.

"Stop, stop! Come on, let's go!"

"Fifteen minutes, please. I promise I'll go to whatever tastings you need me to go to if you just give me fifteen minutes."

John half-heartedly pulls away, but Sherlock begins to pout again. "Damnit!" John shouts, falling onto the bed on top of Sherlock.

An hour and a half later, Sherlock and John emerge from 221B with fresh showers and wonderful smiles.

"You look rather dashing, love," John says in the back of the cab they got.

"As do you," Sherlock says, staring at his phone.

"You haven't even looked at me since I got out of the shower."

"That's because you got dressed."

John grins at Sherlock. "You only want me for my body?"

Sherlock smiles. It's so small, John barely notices. "Not true," he says.

"Then be happy about cake and wine tasting, love. Come on. Free cake to taste, free wine to drink," John takes Sherlock's hand in his. "It'll be great."

"Mmm," Sherlock says, no longer paying attention.

They arrive at the bakery and John gets out of the car before Sherlock. John holds his hand out for Sherlock and Sherlock blindly takes it, for he is still staring at his phone.

"What are you doing on that damn thing?" John asks as they approach the door to the bakery.

"Working," Sherlock replies.

They get inside and sit at a table. John adjusts and looks around while Sherlock instantly slumps in his seat.

"This is a nice place," John says, still looking around.

"Mmmm," Sherlock replies.

"For God's sake, Sherlock, you cannot possibly be that busy. Could you put your phone down for our tasting?"

"Nope," Sherlock says.

John rolls his eyes as the head baker comes to their table.

"Hello, Mr. Watson," he offers a hand to John. "And Mr. Holmes," he says, offering a hand to Sherlock but Sherlock doesn't even look up. "Ok then," he says, lowering his hand. "I'm Todd and I'm the lead chef here. Is there anything in particular you two are looking for?"

John glances at Sherlock for an answer, but when there isn't one, John answers for them. "Well, he really loves chocolate so maybe something chocolate? And I guess I like whatever, so whatever you think."

Todd smiles warmly at John. "I'll see what I can do."

When Todd disappears into the kitchen, Sherlock puts his phone away and sits up.

"Oh? Suddenly interested?"

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"_Todd_ likes you."

John blushes and looks at Sherlock. "No he does not."

"Yes he does, I can tell."

"Of course you can."

John gives Sherlock a lopsided grin, then looks back towards the kitchen.

"Stop grinning like that. You're marrying me, remember?"

"Yes, but I know that. It's nice to be noticed."

"I notice you," Sherlock says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Mhm," John replies.

Finally Todd emerges from the back with two small squares of cake. He sets them both on the table. "Ok, this one," he points to the first one, "Is double chocolate; chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. It's far less traditional, but it's very chocolatey. And this one," he points to the second, "This one is vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. The flavors together are fantastic. Personally, I love the vanilla and chocolate one, but that's just me. Anyway, try both and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sherlock didn't look at Todd while he was standing with them, he didn't even look when Todd left.

"Here love, have this one," John hands Sherlock a fork with the first cake on it.

Sherlock bites the cake off the fork but doesn't look at John. "That's fine."

"Sherlock, you didn't even—"

"I tasted it, didn't I?"

John grins again. "Are you jealous?"

Sherlock briefly glances at John. "Don't be absurd."

John waves a fork of cake in Sherlock's face. "You are jea-lous!" John sings jealous.

"Childish," he bites the cake from John's fork.

"How's that one?"

"Fine."

John rolls his eyes. Just then, Todd comes back.

"So, how's it?"

"I think I like the vanilla one better," John says. "Sherlock, what do you think?"

Sherlock doesn't answer.

"He likes it, too."

"Great," Todd says, smiling. "Any more you'd like to try?"

"No, no. I think we've got it."

Todd smiles. "Great. When is the big day?"

"Two weeks," John says with a smile.

"Wonderful," Todd says. "I'll get you an order form so you can fill that out, and then we're all set."

"Thank you so much," John says with a smile.

After the forms are filled out and everything is paid for, Sherlock drags John out of the shop.

"He was pretty," John says as Sherlock drags him through the streets. "Not as pretty as you," John says, pinching Sherlock's arse.

Sherlock squirms. "Shut up," he says, pushing John's hand away.

"You're not pretty," John says. "You're beautiful. Jaw dropping. Gorgeous."

"John, is it possible you're drunk and we haven't even been to the wine tasting?"

"Impossible," John says, giggling.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and continues pulling him through the streets.

Finally they arrive at the wine bar. They sit on two stools and wait for the owner to come. When he does, he gives Sherlock a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm Wes and I own this place," he motions to take Sherlock's hand, then John's, but his gaze lingers on Sherlock.

"I'm John, this is Sherlock. We're looking for a regular wine to taste for our wedding."

"Ah, yes. When is the big day?"

"Two weeks."

"Perfect. Alright, let's get you started on my personal favorite…" Wes goes on about a few wines and brings them each three glasses.

"This one's great," John says. "Taste this one, love." He hands Sherlock his glass of the same.

"Too bitter," Sherlock says.

A few minutes later, John hands Sherlock a different one. "This one's wonderful, here."

"Not strong enough," Sherlock says.

After that, John hands him the third. "Here, this one's it I know it."

"Nope, that's not it."

Wes watches them with wide eyes. Sherlock hasn't even looked up from his phone and John just listens to him.

"Got any more?" John asks.

"Yes, yes of course!" Wes leaves them for a minute and comes back this time with four glasses of wine each. He takes their other glasses and notes that the tall handsome one –_Sherlock was it?_- drank all three of his. Wes tells them about each of the glasses and watches them taste.

"Here love, I like this one," John hands him a glass.

"I don't."

"How's this?" John hands him another.

"Not good," Sherlock answers.

"Ok, this one, please be it."

"No, no, no. All wrong."

"Ok, last one. Drink up."

Finally Sherlock smiles. "Thi-th one i-th it."

John's eyes grow wide and he smiles. Sherlock throws a hand over his mouth. "How much of the wine did you drink, love?"

Sherlock burps and giggles. "All of them."

"All seven glasses?"

Sherlock nods many times.

"Ok, let's get you home," he pulls Sherlock off the stool. "This one is good, we want this one," he says. "I'll be back a bit later!" John shouts at Wes as he drags Sherlock away.

"I love you, John," Sherlock slurs their whole way home.

Two weeks pass and it's their wedding day. John wakes up with Sherlock wrapped around him, breathing deep in his ear. He smiles and looks out the window. It's raining, but he smiles. Today's the day he's going to marry Sherlock, it doesn't matter that it's raining a bit.

He closes his eyes and thinks about dozing again when he feels something wet in his ear. He smiles and tries to turn his head to look at Sherlock, but Sherlock grabs the other side of his head and holds him still. John grins. "Sherlock, come on. I'm getting married today, no funny business."

Sherlock purrs in his ear. "I'm determined to enjoy today," he whispers in John's ear. "And I'm getting married too. As groom everyone should do as I say."

John strokes the thigh Sherlock has resting on his stomach. He turns his head to look at Sherlock, then rubs his nose against Sherlock's. "What do you have in mind, then?" He rubs his lips against Sherlock's.

Sherlock quickly straddles John's hips. He leans over and kisses one side of John's neck. "I'd like," he kisses the other side, "Lots and lots of love," he kisses John's chin. "If it's not too much trouble," he kisses John's lips.

John flips them over so he's on top of Sherlock. "Sounds perfect to me, actually." He kisses Sherlock deep and lovingly.

A few hours later, they leave their bed. The wedding is at 4, but they've still got so much to do. They have to make sure the cake gets delivered, they've got to set up for the party at Mycroft's flat, and above all, they've got to get ready.

"I don't know why we need to have the party at Mycroft's flat," Sherlock pouts on their way there.

"It's spacious and he offered. It saves us money, Sherlock. Not that your mother's gift couldn't have paid for anything."

"Then why aren't we having the party elsewhere?"

"Because he offered, Sherlock. Alright? Get over it or you're not invited."

Sherlock glares at John. "Fine. I'll take my appointment at the court house with someone else."

John snorts. "Yeah, like anyone else would marry you."

Sherlock glares again. "Sometimes words hurt, John."

John grabs Sherlock's hand and kisses it. "I'm joking. Only I get to marry you, anyway."

Sherlock smiles and looks out the window again.

When they get to Mycroft's, the find that Mrs. Hudson is there shouting orders at everyone. The florist is there being directed on where to put flowers, the wine deliverers are there wondering where to put the wine, the cake deliverers are putting the finishing touches on, and Mycroft's standing in the corner out of the way.

"Nice of you to join us," Mycroft greets.

"We thought we'd make an appearance," John looks at Mrs. Hudson. "Has she been like this all day?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Since about nine o'clock."

"Sorry about that," John says.

"It's fine. I just hope everything goes right. I'd hate to see her angry."

Just then, Greg arrives. "What's happening here?" he asks, making his way to the corner where the other three are standing.

"We're staying out of the way," John answers.

"Where have you been?" Mycroft asks.

"Picking up my suit from dry-cleaning. I told you."

Mycroft sighs and sips his tea.

At 2, John and Sherlock head home to get ready. They take their time with showers and shaving. When John comes out of the bathroom to get dressed, Sherlock is already getting dressed. John watches from the doorway as Sherlock buttons his jet black shirt over his pale skin, then tucks his shirt into his black pants.

John smiles. "Hello, beautiful," he says.

Sherlock smiles at him. "Is that what you're wearing?" he asks, pointing at the towel around John's waist.

"Yes. Got a problem?"

"Absolutely none."

John walks to the closet and gets his suit out. It's dark blue, nearly black, but Sherlock can tell it's blue.

"I love that suit," Sherlock says.

"I do too. It's a beautiful thing."

"Mmm," Sherlock agrees. "I like to see you in it." Sherlock, now dressed in trousers and shirt, makes his way over to John. He wraps his arms around John and pulls him close.

"No. No funny business. We've got to be at the courthouse in half an hour."

"I'll be quick," Sherlock pleads.

"No. After, ok? Tonight. I promise."

Sherlock gives John a wicked smile as he lets John go. "Oh, I'm looking forward to tonight."

"What's that smile for?"

"You'll see."

At 3:40, they arrive at the courthouse. They check in and wait at the benches.

"Who did you invite as a witness?" John asks.

"Hmm? I was supposed to invite someone?"

John's face goes straight. "You didn't invite anyone?"

"I didn't know I was—"

"God, Sherlock. Of all the crap you know, don't you know you need a witness for a—"

Sherlock stands in front of John. "John, relax. I'm joking. Of course I invited someone."

John lets out a deep breath. "Good. Great. Who is it?"

Just then, John hears a "Yoo-hoo!" behind him. He turns around to see Mrs. Hudson happily walking towards them.

"Ahh, Mrs. Hudson! I should have known!"

"Well, of course. The first person that recognized us as a couple."

John looks at Sherlock. "Sherlock for the last time. We were not a couple the first moment we met, or the night at Angelo's, or weeks after that or weeks after that. Years, Sherlock. It took years."

"Whatever you say, John." Sherlock hugs Mrs. Hudson and redirects John. "Who did you invite?"

John smiles. "Well, by your definition, the person who set us up."

Sherlock smiles. "I knew it."

"You did not."

"Did, too."

Just then, Stamford arrives. John waves him down and he joins them, greeting both John and Sherlock and meeting Mrs. Hudson for the first time. The four sit and wait for ten more minutes until they're called back to a judge's room.

The ceremony is short. Both men are eager, but they stand patiently grinning at each other.

_I'm actually marrying Sherlock, _John thinks. _I thought this day would never come._

_I'm marrying John, _Sherlock thinks. _I've never been more happy._

_Someone is actually marrying someone, _Stamford thinks. _May God be with him._

_Sherlock's marrying someone! _Mrs. Hudson thinks. _Finally!_

"And now, you may kiss your groom," the Judge says.

They turn towards each other and smile. John wants to take his time, savor the moment, but Sherlock grabs John's face and hungrily kisses him. It's not inappropriate, but John feels embarrassed. Finally, he sinks into Sherlock and lets Sherlock kiss him. It's sweet, and beautiful, and Mrs. Hudson sheds a tear or two.

Mrs. Hudson and her new friend Stamford take a cab before John and Sherlock to give them some privacy. They take Mycroft's car. Before John even has the door closed, Sherlock has John's face in his hands and he's attacking John with kisses.

"Wait—Sherlock—I'm not even—Mmph—" John slams the door shut and falls into Sherlock.

Sherlock kisses John as if it's their last. John's certain Sherlock's never kissed him with such urgency, but he knows Sherlock's happy and excited and he just goes along with it.

Sherlock pulls away for a second and looks into John's eyes. "I love you, John."

"I love you, too, Sherlock. More than anything." John pulls Sherlock in for a hug. "I've never been so happy."

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck. "I haven't, either."

They resume kissing, but before they know it, they've arrived at Mycroft's. They get inside and into an elevator, then kiss in the elevator.

"Don't make me go in," Sherlock begs.

"It's just a small dinner, ok? It'll be fine."

"I want to go home."

"Please, baby? It's all for us. We'll have a great time, I promise."

They go inside and greet everyone. Mycroft's there of course, with Greg, and Harry with Clara, and Angelo and his wife, two sons, their wives, and his daughter. Then Mrs. Hudson and her date, Stamford and his wife, Sherlock's mother, four of Sherlock's cousins and their spouses, and Molly and her date of course.

"You didn't invite anyone else from the Yard?" John asks.

"Why would I want those idiots at my wedding?"

"Some are friends, Sherlock."

"Then why didn't you invite them?"

"I…well…I…"

"Exactly."

The party resumes and everyone has a great time. They have a lovely dinner –catered special from Angelo's— lots of wine, and delicious cake. John's glad they ordered as much wine as they did because everyone drinks in heavy amounts, even Mycroft, and which shocks everyone. What shocks everyone more is that Sherlock has a drunken lisp. His mother laughs and tells stories about his lisp as a child, which makes everyone laugh.

After the party, John and Sherlock go downstairs to go home. Sherlock slides in and waits while John tells the driver something.

"What'd you tell him?" Sherlock asks as John gets in the car.

"Nothing," John says, attacking Sherlock with kisses.

When they pass the turn to Baker Street, Sherlock breaks away from John and eyes him. "Where are we going?"

"I got you a surprise, love."

"Where are we going?"

"I can't tell," John grins.

"John Hamish Wat-th—"

"Holmes."

"What?" Sherlock asks, confused.

"I'm Holmes now, remember? And you're Waston."

"Oh," Sherlock smiles. "Sherlock Wat-thon. I like that."

"I do, too. I love you, Sherlock Watson."

Sherlock smiles and kisses John. "I love you, too, John Holme-th."

John giggles against Sherlock's mouth. "Next time, not so much wine."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time."

John looks at Sherlock confused. "How do you mean?"

"Not another wedding party."

John laughs. "Of course not. Just the one, thanks."

Sherlock gets a straight face. "Well, technically the two for you, if you—"

"Shut up, Sherlock!" John says, grabbing Sherlock's face and kissing him.

They go to a hotel that John booked to surprise Sherlock. All night, Sherlock can't keep his hands off John, but that's perfect to John. The next morning they don't have much of hangovers, so they stay in bed all day. They discuss honeymoon plans and decide on a lovely destination.

The day after that, they return to 221B as husband and husband.

_***Long chapter! Thanks for the responses on Mystrade's wedding. I hope you all like this one. Also, I decided that after Mormor, I'll do a wedding night fic ; ) and after that I'll do honeymoons, yeah? : ) **_


	77. Chapter 77

**Couple 3**

The day after they get engaged, they tell Sienna.

They know they aren't going to change their minds or break up before they actually get married, so Sebastian thought it wise to tell her sooner than later because she would be like, "Well why didn't you tell me!" and "I should have been the first to know!". So the morning after they got engaged, Sebastian calls Sienna to ask her to dinner. She agrees and they decide that they'll meet at a restaurant at seven.

At 5:40, Sebastian steps out of the shower; the second one he had that day because they've been…busy. While he showers and as he steps out, he hums a silly tune and has a smile on his face.

"You sound utterly cheery, my dear," Jim says as Sebastian walks out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. Jim's pulling his shirt on with his back towards the bathroom door, so he doesn't see Sebastian walk in, but when he turns around he sees Sebastian. "Jesus, Seb. Put some clothes on," he says, looking away from Sebastian.

Sebastian glances down at his completely naked form. "I forgot my towel out here," he walks over to the chair his towel is hanging over and picks it up, then begins drying his arms instead of wrapping the towel around himself. "What are you looking away for? You see me naked all the time."

"Yeah," Jim says, still not looking at Sebastian. "But sometimes I don't want to see…that."

Sebastian laughs and walks around the bed to Jim. He stands with his legs apart and his hands on his hips. "What, this?" he asks.

Jim smiles. "Stop, Seb. We've got to go."

"Our reservations aren't until seven, we've got time to wait until you stop being a baby and just look at me."

Jim looks into Sebastian's face. "There, happy?"

"Not my face," Sebastian says, pointing down.

"Stop, Seb, this is childish. I don't have to look at it if I don't want to."

"What's wrong with it right now? Any other time you're more than happy to see if, but this time?" Sebastian laughs. "You don't like it when it's soft?"

Jim blushes, smiles, and looks away. "Stop, Seb."

Sebastian laughs again. "What's wrong with my flaccid dick?"

Jim laughs. "Will you stop talking about it? This isn't normal."

"Look at it and I'll stop."

"This is absurd."

"Just look at it and I'll get ready."

Jim glares at Sebastian but still has a smile on his face. "Fine," he says, looking down at Sebastian's lower half. He sees that Sebastian is half hard. "You tricked me," he says.

"Oh, yeah," Sebastian says, stepping towards Jim and wrapping his arms around Jim's shoulders, then kisses Jim's neck.

Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian's waist and rests his hands on the small of Sebastian's back. He kisses Sebastian. "Too bad we don't have time," he says, then smacks Sebastian's arse and pulling away from him.

Sebastian watches him leave the room and calls after him, "Arse!"

They head to the restaurant and arrive before Sienna. They get seated at seven, and Sienna arrives exactly then. Since Logan is much older now and more mature, Sienna takes him with her. When Logan sees Sebastian and Jim, he runs across the restaurant to them and runs into Jim's arms.

"Uncle Jim!" Logan says.

"Hey, pal," Jim says, hugging him. "How's it going? How's school."

"It's fine, but Sienna won't let me go on a field trip next week because we don't have the money for it," Logan says.

"Oh, she won't? Well maybe Uncle Seb and I can see what we can do, ok?"

Logan smiles. "Really!?"

"Yeah, if you really want to go. I'm sure Sebastian won't mind."

"Thank you, Uncle Jim!" Logan hugs him.

"Hey sis," Sebastian says while Jim and Logan greet each other.

"Hello there, big brother," Sienna kisses his cheek. "How are you?"

"Great, I'm great. Where's the husband?"

"He's sick, actually. I'm glad Logan and I had a reason to get out of germ-city."

Sebastian laughs. He turns to Logan as Logan makes his way to him for Jim. "Hey, bud, how's it going?" he hugs Logan. He tosses the tie that's around Logan's neck and laughs. "What is this? A tie? You're only eleven!"

"Sienna told me to!"

They laugh and sit down. After they order and get their food, Sebastian clears his throat to talk. "Si, there's actually a reason we asked you to dinner tonight."

Sienna looks scared for a moment. "What's going on?"

"It's not bad, it's not bad!" Sebastian tells her. "Uhm, it's just that…well yesterday we met a man who really didn't like his wife, and it was a strange situation they were in, but anyway—" Sebastian begins to tell his story when Jim cuts him off.

"Extremely long story short, Sienna," he says, "We are engaged."

Sienna nearly spits her wine out. She swallow and gasps. "What?!"

"Yeah, yesterday I got down on one knee and proposed," Sebastian says.

Sienna nearly screams. She hits Sebastian's arm and stands. "You're kidding!" Sebastian stands next to her and they hug. "Congratulations! Oh my goodness!" She steps around the table and hugs Jim. "What brought this on? When did you decide? Oh my gosh!"

"Well, like I said, we met a man who had a horrible relationship with his wife. And I knew I'd never have that with Jim, so I asked. And after much persuasion, he said yes."

Sienna looks at Jim. "You had to be persuaded?"

Jim shrugs. "Well, it's a tough decision, you know? It's a big thing!"

Sienna laughs. "I know, I know! Oh my gosh. I'm so happy for you two!"

"What do you think, Logan?" Sebastian asks.

Logan answers right before sipping his water. "I don't know why you guys didn't get married a long time ago."

They all laugh. "It's just a big thing. But it's exciting, right?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Good!"

"So," Sienna starts, "Have you thought of plans yet? Have you thought of a date or location or guests or—"

"No, no, no, no, no. We haven't discussed anything other than we both want a small thing, just at the courthouse. We can have a party after, but we don't know enough people to have a big thing."

"Oh, you've got to have a big thing!"

"Who would we invite?"

"Our family! Barry's wedding was so much fun!"

"Yes," Sebastian says, "Until you got smashed and I had to drive you home!"

"Oh, that was fun! Come on, let's have a big thing!"

Sebastian and Jim exchange a look. Then Sebastian says, "Ok, we'll think about it."

Later that night, as they're getting ready for bed, they talk about it.

"So, what do you think?" Sebastian asks while brushing his teeth.

"I don't know. I don't really want a big thing."

"I know."

Jim looks at Sebastian in the mirror. "Do you?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I don't know."

Jim rolls his eyes.

"What?" Sebastian asks.

"You only want to have a big thing now because your sister wants it."

Sebastian spits in the sink. "Things she tells me to do usually work out fine and we have a good time."

Jim rinses his face, dries it, and looks at Sebastian. "You need to stop letting your sister control your life."

"Jim," Sebastian tries, but Jim leaves. Sebastian sighs. He finishes brushing his teeth and washing his face, then goes into their bedroom where Jim is already laying in bed.

Sebastian folds his side of the duvet back and sits on the bed. He pulls moisturizer from his bedside table and applies some to his hands and feet.

"I still don't know why you do that out here," Jim says.

"It's so I can sit and rub some on my feet."

"I think you keep lotion out here so you can wank when I'm not around."

Sebastian chuckles. "Who says I do it when you're not around?"

Jim pinches Sebastian's back.

Sebastian puts his lotion away and lays down. He lays on his back and folds his arms behind his head. He looks over at Jim. "Sienna doesn't control my life."

Jim laughs. "Yes she does, Seb. And that's fine, I know you like to please her. But this is your marriage; she doesn't have to control it."

"She doesn't want to control my marriage, just my wedding."

"That doesn't make it any better. It's not her wedding."

"I know," Sebastian rolls onto his side to face Jim. "I'm sorry, ok? We don't have to do anything _we _don't want to do."

"Alright," Jim says. He leans over and kisses Sebastian. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The next morning, Sebastian wakes to an empty bed and a throbbing hard on. When he first opens his eyes, he looks own and smiles, but when he feels nobody next to him, he frowns. He gets out of bed and walks down the hall to the living room.

"Hey honey?" he calls. "Where'd you go? I have something that would like your—fuck!" As Sebastian turns the corner into the kitchen, he sees Sienna standing there talking to Jim.

"Hey, you remember your sister, right?" Jim sarcastically asks, glancing at Sebastian's lower half.

"Jesus," Sebastian mutters, covering himself.

Sienna laughs. "Hey, Sebby. How's it—"

"Shut up!" Sebastian shouts, fleeing the room.

Jim and Sienna exchange glances and burst into laughter before they continue with conversation.

Half an hour later, Sebastian goes back to the kitchen, but Sienna is gone.

"Good morning," Jim says while grinning.

"Yeah, yeah," Sebastian says, kissing Jim's cheek on the way to the coffee pot.

"I didn't know you were going to come out like that," Jim says.

"I didn't know she was here."

Jim leans against the sink while Sebastian pours his coffee. "Did you and your lotion have a little date?"

Sebastian glares. "Shut up."

Jim laughs. "Well anyway, your sister was here trying to persuade me to have a big thing."

"And?"

"And…" Jim looks at Sebastian. "It worked."

"I knew it would. I knew she'd get to you."

"I have no power against her!"

"You know how I feel!"

Jim laughs. "So, yes. We're having a big thing next month."

"Where? Did she decide?"

"She is going to look into it."

Sebastian laughs. "I knew this would happen."

"I know, I know," Jim hugs Sebastian. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Sebastian buries his face in Jim's neck. "She's evil."

Jim laughs. "It'll be fun, though."

Sebastian pulls away from Jim, smiles, and kisses him. "It will."

A month later, Sebastian wakes up to an empty bed once again. He realizes he's at a hotel after a few minutes, then remembers that today is his wedding day. He smiles and picks up his phone. He sees he has two missed calls, so he smiles again. When he checks them, he sees it was Jim twice. He smiles wider and calls back.

"Hello?" Jim answers.

"Miss me yet?"

"Of course not."

Sebastian smiles wide and sits up against the headboard. He picks up the remote and turns the news on. "Why did you call twice then?"

"Because…I…" Jim pauses. "I just wanted to say hello."

"Well, hello."

"Hello."

Sebastian laughs. "What have you been doing, love?"

"Avoiding your sister."

"What? Has she been there?"

"Yes. Three times. She's more frantic than she was on her wedding day."

"I know, and I don't know why. I think she sent me five texts just this morning."

"You'd better answer her."

"I will later. I wanted to call you first."

"How sweet."

Sebastian smiles. "I know. I've got to take a shower, though."

"Alright."

"I'll see you soon."

"You better show up."

"I wouldn't miss this for anything," Sebastian begins to hang up, but he quickly adds, "I love you!"

"I love you too."

At 2, Sebastian heads to the park where the wedding is to be. It's a tiny park, more like a garden, wedged between two buildings in the city. He and Jim found it one day after visiting a client and decided for themselves that their wedding would be there. It was a small place, but they were only inviting fifty people, so it was large enough for that many.

It's not a far walk, so Sebastian decides to walk there. On his way, Sienna calls him for the fifth time.

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

"On my way."

"Good. You'd better be."

"You need to calm down," Sebastian tells her.

"I put a lot into this wedding, Seb."

"I appreciate it, I do. But this isn't even your wedding! You need to chill!"

"You plan a wedding in a month next time!"

"There won't be a next time!"

"There had better not be because if this wedding goes to waste, I'm going to—"

Sebastian hangs up on her. He cheerily walks down the street.

Sebastian's only blocks away when it suddenly begins to rain.

"You've got to be kidding!" he shouts at the sky. "What the fuck!"

He keeps walking because no cabs will take a soaking wet man, so he scowls the rest of the way.

The rain lasts literally three minutes before the sun is shining again.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouts, ringing out his tie.

As he turns the corner to the park, he sees Sienna. She starts walking towards him and once she sees that he's all wet, she shouts, "What the hell, Seb?!"

"It rained, ok!"

"Why did you walk here?! It's your bloody wedding day and you _walk_ here?!"

"Did I know it was going to rain in the ten minutes it takes to walk here?!"

"YOU LIVE IN LONDON YOU IDIOT!" Sienna shouts.

Sebastian walks past her while running his fingers through his hair. "Where's Jim?" he demands.

"He's over there," Sienna says, trotting along beside him to catch up. "You can't see him!"

"And why not?" Sebastian asks, not stopping.

"Because it's bad luck for—"

"The rules say nothing about groom and groom, Sienna!"

"You want equality? You get equality!" Sienna grabs Sebastian's arm. "You don't get to see him!"

Sebastian roughly pulls his arm away from Sienna. "Fine!"

Sebastian agrees to sit in a car and stay out of trouble for ten minutes before the wedding starts. When it's time, Sienna leads him to his spot to wait to walk down the isle. Across the other side of the isle, Jim is waiting to do the same.

Finally the music starts and Sebastian gets butterflies. _Oh my gosh, _he thinks. _I'm marrying Jim right now. Jim is going to be my husband forever. _

Sienna comes around the corner to walk Sebastian down the isle. "Hey, you ready?"

Sebastian stares at her with wide eyes. "How can you live with the same husband forever?" he asks, then doubles over onto his knees.

"Oh Jesus," Sienna mutters while placing her hand on Sebastian's back and beginning to rub. "Breath, breath. It's ok. Now, what's going on?"

"I'm going to be married to Jim forever. As in, all of time, Sienna. How do I not fucking kill him?"

"You won't because you love him, and you _want_ to spend forever with him."

"Forever is an awfully long time," Sebastian says.

"But that man up there loves you Sebastian, and he is willing to love you forever. Don't you want to find out what that will be like?"

Sebastian frantically nods and takes deep breaths. "What if I suck at it? At being a husband? What if he wants to leave me? What if I want to leave him? What if…oh dear god…" Sebastian grabs his chests and continues breathing deep.

"You won't suck at it, Seb!" Sienna chuckles. "Well, you will, but that's because everyone does, even wives. Birthdays and anniversaries are forgotten, dates are ruined, you might not have sex as often, but you know what?" She pulls Sebastian's face to look at her. "The love? The love you felt the first time you told him that you love him? It never, ever goes away."

Sebastian tries to smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really. When you're old and gray and fat and unemployed, he will still love you and you will still love him."

"I will love him," Sebastian says.

"I know. So you need to get your arse into gear and get down that damn isle."

"You're right," Sebastian stands and straightens his still damp suit. He runs a hand through his damp hair. "I'm ready."

They begin to walk down the isle, but right before he can see Jim, Sienna says, "And if you don't marry this man right now, I will fucking kill you." Sienna takes his arm and they walk.

When Jim comes into view, Sebastian can't breathe again. But it's not out of panic, he just momentarily forgets because of Jim. Jim's just standing there, barely smiling, with his crisp black suit and black bowtie. He shifts on the balls of his feet and smiles wide when he locks eyes with Sebastian. Sebastian smiles back.

When they get to Sebastian's spot, Sebastian kisses Sienna and she takes her seat. He turns to Jim and Jim greets him by squeezing his arm.

"Why are you wet?" Jim asks.

"It rained."

The Judge clears his throat to get their attention. "Good afternoon, all. We are gathered here today to join the hands of James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran in marriage…"

The Judge goes on and the whole time Sebastian can't stop smiling. He wants so badly for it to be over so they can just be married, but he knows the ceremony will be over soon and they can move on with their lives.

Finally the judge says they may now kiss, and Sebastian wastes no time. He darts for Jim, and Jim does too, and they kiss. It seems like the longest kiss ever, but that's because both men have an extremely happy out of body experience. When they break apart, they smile at each other and everyone claps.

Not long after, they get into a car to go to their party at Sienna's house. They sit next to each other and don't speak for a few minutes.

"Well," Jim finally says.

"Yes," Sebastian replies.

At the same time, he and Jim look at each other and smile.

"I can't believe we're married now," Jim says.

"I know. I feel as though I have super powers now."

Jim laughs. "I never thought I'd find anyone worth dating for more than a month, let alone marry them."

"What, you didn't think we'd last long?"

"You did?"

Sebastian laughs. "There were many times where I thought we wouldn't make it through the night," he picks Jim's hand up and kisses it. "But none of that matters anymore."

Jim leans over and kisses Sebastian. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too, Mister Moran."

Jim laughs. "One of the perks of being a man, you don't have to change your last name."

"I quite like your last name."

"Really? Would you change it?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't mind sharing something."

Jim smiles. "Let's make up our own last name."

Sebastian thinks for a minute. "Let's see. Moran, Moriarty. Mor…a…i…Mor…" Sebastian smiles. "MorMor."

Jim laughs loud at this. "You're an idiot."

"I know, and you have to spend the rest of your life with me."

Jim kisses him again. "Well, I know it'll be very, very entertaining."

Sebastian smiles and kisses Jim again. They ride the rest of the way exchanging silent kisses.

**_*MorMor wedding! AWW! Thanks for being patient, guys. I have been busy, and a few days ago I wrote a fic for a contest on fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic dot tumblr dot com. It's called _Hypothesis _and it's up on my stories. There's bonus Johnlock sex in the one I posted here, so check it out! _**


	78. Chapter 78

**Couple 1**

It's Friday night in the Holmes-Lestrade household and that only means one thing:

Parade's End.

Yes, in only it's first two episodes, the show has taken over their television. The take over began years ago, actually, when Mycroft read the books while on holiday one summer, and since then he's loved them. When he found out they were becoming a television show, he was very excited and set the recorder to record every episode. Now it's been two episodes, the third is about to air, and Greg's seen them each about five times.

"Parade's End again? You're joking," Greg says, walking into the living room.

"You know how I feel about this program. And besides, I don't complain about you clogging the recorder with football matches from months ago."

"They were good matches, alright? I like to revisit Chelsea winning the Champions League Cup."

"You know they won, I should be able to erase it. It's been four months."

"One never gets over Drogba's final kick, alright? You've seen these episodes; I should be able to erase them."

"I enjoy these. I like the story and the history and the government involvement. This is a very important part of our history, Gregory. Women's suffrage and World War I. How are you not interested in this?"

Greg glances at the screen as the main actress, Rebecca Hall, enters the scene. "Oh, I'm very interested in this," he says with a grin.

Mycroft glances at him and rolls his eyes. "Funny. I'm interested in the history of it all."

The main actor enters the scene and Mycroft's eyes focus on the television again. Greg examines Mycroft staring very intently on the TV.

"Oh, I get it now," Greg says, watching the television again.

"Get what?"

"Why you like this show so much."

"And why would that be, other than what I've stated?"

"You fancy the main bloke."

Mycroft's face looks disgusted. "I do not."

"You can if you want. He's handsome and boring like you."

Mycroft glares at Greg. Finally he watches the TV again. "I do not fancy him."

Greg sits silently and watches. "Doesn't he look like someone we know?" Greg asks.

"I don't think so."

Greg sits forward and examines the actor on screen. "Yes he does. I just can't put my finger on who…" he watches and thinks.

After a few minutes, Greg slaps his knee and sits back. "Say, you know who he looks like?"

Mycroft picks up his tea cup and asks, "Who?" right before taking a sip.

"Your brother!"

Mycroft spits his tea out his nose. He coughs and catches his breath, takes out his handkerchief and dabs his face. "He does not."

Greg laughs. "He does! Look at him! Of course, your brother's got black hair. And your brother's a bit more skinny. And your brother's cheek bones stick out far further than this guy's. But in general, your brother looks quite a bit like this actor."

Mycroft throws a quick glare at Greg. "He does not."

Greg laughs again. "Alright. What's this guy's name anyway?" Greg picks up the remote control and presses 'INFO' to read the information on the show. "Benedict Cumberbatch. Quite a name, wow. I've got to tell John to look him up. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of this."

"Shut up," Mycroft snaps. "He does not look like Sherlock."

Greg grins. "Alright. If you think so." Greg takes his phone out and snaps a photo of the screen.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft demands.

"I'm showing John."

Mycroft makes a grab for Greg's phone. "You are not!"

"Alright, alright!" Greg locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

Ten minutes later, Mycroft quickly grabs the remote control and exits the show.

"Damn it," he mutters.

"What are you doing?" Greg asks.

"He does look like Sherlock," Mycroft pouts.

Greg laughs. "You can still like the show."

"I can't get past thinking that he looks like Sherlock now."

"I'm sorry," Greg says. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's alright. Now we can watch what you want to watch."

Greg smiles and kisses Mycroft's cheek. "Thank you!"

"You did that on purpose! You planted that thought in my head on purpose! You planned that!"

"Sure did!" Greg says, changing the channel to a football match.

Mycroft sits back and pouts.

"I'm sorry," Greg says after a few minutes.

"It's ok," Mycroft says.

"We can watch the third episode after it's finished recording."

"That may be nice," Mycroft says, "I believe in this episode, Christopher gets injured at war."

Greg chuckles. "Why would that be nice?"

"Now that I believe he looks like Sherlock, I wouldn't have to seriously injure him myself next time he makes me angry. I'll just watch that episode and I'll feel better."

Greg laughs loud at that. "You're right, my dear." He pulls Mycroft to him and they happily watch the rest of the match Greg's watching.

**Couple 2 – Warning for Doctor Who Asylum of the Daleks spoilers. **

Sherlock absolutely loves Doctor Who. This man has every season on DVD. Some seasons he has two of, and John has no idea why. Sherlock doesn't know either, all he knows is that John had better not get rid of one.

John doesn't mind Sherlock's love for the classic sci-fi show. He enjoys that Sherlock likes something so…what's the word John uses? _Human. _He also loves seeing Sherlock fanboy over it when a new season starts, though John believes Sherlock fanboys like a super human. Sherlock, when a new season is about to begin, _only_ talks about Doctor Who. Nearly everything out of his mouth is a Doctor Who fact.

"This season is going to be the fiftieth anniversary, John," he says while they brush their teeth one night.

"I know, Sherlock."

"Even though it's the fiftieth anniversary, there was a gap between 1989 and 2005."

"Yes, I was around then, love."

"There have been eleven Doctors, John," Sherlock says at the shop one afternoon.

"Yes, I know."

"Matt Smith is the eleventh."

"Yep."

"David Tennant was the tenth. Did you know his name isn't really Tennant?"

"I didn't."

"He changed it when he joined the actor's union in Scotland."

John isn't really paying attention. "I didn't know that, love."

"He was the Doctor for three seasons."

"I know."

"He's my favorite Doctor."

"Is he?" John asks, surprised.

"Yes. Does that surprise you?"

John shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose."

"Why?"

"He's just so…silly. Frivolous. You know?"

"And that's bad?"

"That's just not you. I thought you'd like someone more serious."

"Tell me John, which Doctor is actually serious?"

John shrugs again. "You're right."

On the night of the series seven opening, John walks in with Chinese food and a bottle of wine.

"Honey," John starts as he walks in. "I'm home!"

Sherlock rounds the corner to the front door and glares at John. "What have you got there?"

"Chinese and wine, why?"

Sherlock huffs. "It's Doctor Who night."

John looks confused. "So…"

"So we sit in front of the telly and eat popcorn. Years ago, you promised that Doctor Who day meant I didn't have to eat dinner, that I could eat whatever I wanted because that was your family's tradition. And you promised—"

"Sherlock, I know, I know alright? I must have forgotten."

"You forgot? You forgot about Doctor Who night? How could you forget? It's on the calendar! It's programmed in your phone! I reminded you!"

"Honey, honey," John grabs Sherlock's hand and leads him to the kitchen. John sets the food down and turns back to Sherlock. "I'm sorry, ok? I forgot. We can have whatever you want and I'll save this for tomorrow, ok?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath and nods. "Can we have ice cream and popcorn?"

John brushes a curl out of Sherlock's face. "Yes, anything you like."

"And chocolate syrup?"

"On the ice cream or the popcorn?"

Sherlock's eyes light up. "Both!"

John laughs. "Ok, love. Whatever you like."

The episode starts and Sherlock and John sit on the couch with a large bowl of ice cream and popcorn on hand. The scene opens and Sherlock gasps at all the daleks.

"You knew this episode is about daleks," John says.

"Ssshhh," Sherlock replies.

He eats his whole bowl of ice cream, all the while gasping at every little twist and turn.

"They can't get divorced," he mutters.

"The girl! That's her! The new companion!"

"I knew they'd all be dead."

"Those aren't people, Amy!"

"I know where she got the milk…"

Sherlock tends to get over stimulated while watching Doctor Who, and halfway through his bowl of popcorn, he runs to the restroom to throw up. "Pause it!" he shouts as he stands and rushes to the restroom.

John follows him and pets his head as he lays over the toilet bowl. "Are you ok?" John asks.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"I told you, you need to stop getting so excited—"

"It's exciting, John! Some things are exciting!"

"Yes, but throwing up over an episode of Doctor Who and throwing up over a very interesting murder should not sound good to you."

"That was an interesting murder, John."

John pulls Sherlock off the floor and hands him his tooth brush. When finished, they go back into the living room to watch the rest of the episode.

"They don't mean eggs, Rory! They're daleks!" Sherlock shouts at the television.

"Whew, they aren't going to divorce," Sherlock says to John.

"I knew what she was all along!" Sherlock shouts, throwing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn into the air.

"You didn't know," John says.

"I did know. It was quite obvious, actually—"

John rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Sherlock. You didn't know."

Sherlock grins and lays on John's lap. "Thank you, John."

John runs fingers through Sherlock's hair. "You're welcome, Sherlock."

**Couple 3**

Every summer for a few years now, Sebastian has taken vacation on a very, very specific week.

Shark Week.

Shark Week is very important to Sebastian because he loves sharks. Sharks are fascinating. Sharks are beautiful. Sharks are perfect creatures, in Sebastian's mind. He just loves them.

This week, Sebastian's decided to not only take vacation, but also to not leave the couch until Shark Week ends. He doesn't leave for anything; not to go to the store, not to make dinner, not to do _anything. _

Jim knows it's about time he acknowledges Sebastian's little obsession. He likes that Sebastian has his interests and that's great, but it's been years now and Jim knows he should accept this and move on for the week.

But Jim decides to acknowledge it a different way. He decides to not only embrace Sebastian's obsession, but also go along with it.

So, the week goes as follows:

**Monday**

Sebastian wakes at nine AM and gets in the shower. He smiles all through because he knows it's Day 1 of Shark Week. He gets out of the shower, dresses in clean pajama pants, and sits on the couch. He smiles through the first episode, then makes breakfast. Finally, he realizes Jim's gone. He calls Jim.

"Where are you?" Sebastian asks as Jim answers.

"I'm with a client. Why?"

Sebastian sighs. "Ok, I'll see you later." He hangs up.

When Jim gets home, he watches shark shows with Sebastian until two, then gets lunch, then watches shark shows until bed.

"I don't know why you love them so much, Seb," Jim says as he flosses.

"They're beautiful. They're mysterious. They're deadly," Sebastian leans closer to Jim. "They're like you." He kisses Jim's cheek and leaves the room.

"Yes," Jim shuts the light off and follows Sebastian. "But I don't understand why you love them so much."

Sebastian falls into bed and sits against the headboard. "They're so perfect. They're so interesting. Did you know sharks can hear fish in waters more than a mile away?"

"I did know that, you told me that."

"Ok, did you know shark wounds heal quickly?"

"Yes."

"Alright, how about the fact that they can carry one to one hundred babies as a time?"

"I knew that, too."

Sebastian sighs and lays down. "You're no fun."

"I'm sorry. Tomorrow you can watch more and learn more and tell me."

"Ok," Sebastian pouts.

**Tuesday**

Jim has another early client and decides to make a stop on the way home. He stops at a department store and looks through the men's clothing. Finally he spots what he wants: shark underpants. He chuckles as he picks them up and finds Sebastian's size. He goes cheerily goes home.

"Hey Seb," Jim says as he walks through the door. "I got you something."

"You got me something?" Seb asks, not looking away from the TV.

Jim tosses him the bag from the department store and takes his coat off. Sebastian hesitantly opens the bag and takes the pants out.

"What's this?" he asks.

"Just something I picked up."

Sebastian examines the gift. "Is this shark underwear?"

"Yes."

Sebastian smiles wide. "No way!"

"I found them and knew you'd love them."

"I do love them. Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

**Wednesday and Thursday **

The middle of the week passes with nothing special. Sebastian learns more and tells Jim all he learns, but other than that there's not much.

The one thing that happens is that on Thursday morning, Sebastian excitedly jumps on the bed while Jim's sleeping, which is different. It's usually Jim who bugs Sebastian, but not this time.

"Jim, check this out!" he jumps on the bed holding his laptop.

"Get out," Jim pleads.

"Hey, no really! Check this out, it's so cool!" He sits on his side of the bed and rests his laptop on Jim's back.

"Get out!"

"But look, check this car out. It's a Volkswagen Beetle, but it's a shark tank. No, no. I mean, it's a shark…uhm…cage. See? They took the model of a Beetle and built just a frame, and the divers can drive the car on the bottom on the ocean, and the sharks can't get into it because it's a cage and they're too large. See? See?!"

"That's great, Seb."

"You can't even see it!"

"I'm sure it's fantastic."

"You have to look at it!"

"Sebastian!" Jim snaps. "Get the fuck out! I'm tired! I want to sleep! It's six AM!"

Sebastian sits back and sighs. "Ok," he says, picking up his laptop and leaving the room.

Later on, Jim gets out of bed and watches shark shows with Sebastian for the rest of the day.

**Friday**

Sebastian woke up moping. Today is the last day of Shark Week and he's very sad. The last day is always very sad, but today feels more so. Jim knows he's moping and wants to make Sebastian feel better.

Jim leaves around noon and wanders for a while trying to find what he wants. Normal pet stores don't have what he's looking for, but finally after four hours he finds what he wants: an epaulette shark. It's a shark that looks more like a snake, kind of. It's long and skinny, and often has spots. It doesn't look like a regular shark, but it's the most common type of pet shark.

Jim buys the shark and has it delivered to their flat.

"Hey, Seb," Jim says as he walks through the front door.

"You look happy," Sebastian observes.

"I am happy. I'm excited."

"For?"

"You'll see."

An hour later, the delivery men arrive with the shark.

"Who's at the door?" Sebastian asks.

"You'll see."

The men walk through the door with the large tank. It's covered with a sheet, so Sebastian doesn't know what it is, and Jim directs them to put it in the office on top of the desk. Once they're finished, Jim pays them and calls Sebastian into the room.

"What? What is it?" Sebastian asks.

"I got you the most perfect gift," Jim says. "Are you ready?"

"Yes…" Sebastian sounds scared.

"Don't be scared. You'll love it, come on!" Jim takes Sebastian's hand and leads him to the office. He stands Sebastian right in front of the tank and pulls the sheet off.

Jim's sure Sebastian squeals like a little girl. His hands cover his mouth and his eyes grow wide.

"You didn't," he says.

"I did."

Sebastian smacks Jim's chest and nearly jumps up and down. "It's an epaulette!" He presses his nose against the glass and stares at it. "Why did you do this?"

"I saw you moping and couldn't stand it."

Sebastian attacks Jim in a hug. "I love it!"

Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian's waist. "I'm glad."

Sebastian kisses Jim's cheek and goes back to the shark. He watches it for a few minutes before going back to the living room to watch the rest of Shark Week.

Within weeks, Sebastian gets enough courage to actually pet the shark. He loves to feel the slipperiness of its skin and the way it moves. He calls the shark James Jr. and often refers to it as his and Jim's baby. He tries to move the tank to their bedroom, but Jim doesn't let him.

Eventually, Sebastian buys two more sharks and has a larger tank for them, but that isn't for a few years. For now he's happy with his one shark.

**_*Hey guys! Sorry for a delay and thanks for the reviews last chapter. Glad anyone liked it and sorry for whoever didn't. That's ok if you didn't. This chapter, favorite shows, was prompted by _caramelldansin _and thank you! I think I've always made Sherlock a Who fan and Sebastian loves sharks of course. And Mycroft liking Parade's End was a random thing because, if you don't know, Benedict Cumberbatch _is_ the male lead of that show and of course he looks like Sherlock. Anyway I'm extremely obsessed with that show, and everyone who isn't should totally check it out. I love it so much. _**


	79. Chapter 79

**Couple 1**

The day after the wedding, Mycroft went to work. Well it's not like he gave notice that he was going to randomly get married, did he? He had things to do. So he went to work and Greg pouted the entire time.

"What do people usually do after they get married?" Mycroft asks.

"Well, last time I did it, it was quite a long time ago, but—"

Mycroft scowls. Of course it can't bother him that Greg was married before, but when Greg compares the two relationships, well Mycroft has reason not to like that.

"—last time I did it," Greg doesn't notice Mycroft's scowl, "We left for a honeymoon the day after the wedding. It was fun. We went to Barbados. Of course it rained a lot, but we weren't there for sight seeing."

Mycroft sets down his razor and rinses his face. "I don't know," Mycroft says, "I have a lot of work to do."

"Come on, Mycroft," Greg pats his arm. "We just got married. Can we _please _go somewhere?"

Mycroft turns to Greg. "Where do you have in mind?"

The next day they hopped on a plane to Mexico. It's somewhere Greg's never been, and Mycroft hates every other country but England, so it didn't matter to him where they go.

They get first class tickets to Cancun with a layover in Houston, Texas. They sit in their seats and Mycroft wipes everything down with a sanitizing wipe.

"Mycroft, we're in first class. I'm sure everything is clean," Greg pleads.

"I'm not trusting it, Greg. Now give me your hands." Mycroft stares at Greg.

"Are you kidding?"

Mycroft gives him _that _glare. The one that says _you had better do as I say_.

Greg sighs, rolls his eyes, and holds his hands out. Mycroft cleanss his palms with a clean wipe and sits back in his seat.

An hour into the flight, Greg begins to squirm in his seat. He takes a sip of his drink and sits back, then begins to squirm again.

"Stop moving," Mycroft demands.

"I'm bored."

"Watch the movie."

"I can't hear it. You wouldn't let me buy the headphones."

"Because they are incredibly unsanitary. Honestly, I don't know why you wouldn't just let us bring on of the private planes."

"Because sometimes I like to be normal, ok? No private vehicles, no help from anybody; just you and I, and _normal_."

Mycroft snorts. "I don't think first class is very _normal_."

"I like nice things, ok? I've grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and I'd like complementary drinks on an airplane."

Mycroft laughs at this. "But we couldn't bring a private plane."

Greg looks at him, amused. "Are you having a good time, yet? Or are you completely dreading this?"

"No, I'm enjoying myself. You're here," Mycroft looks over at Greg and smiles. "That's always nice."

Greg leans over to kiss Mycroft, expecting him to deny Greg, but when Mycroft kisses him back, Greg smiles wide.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Mycroft asks.

Greg shrugs, his limbs freely moving like a silly puppet. "I dunno," he says, sounding drunk. "I'm happy."

"Are you suddenly very drunk?"

Greg shakes his head. "I've had one drink!"

Mycroft smiles. "Good. Please maintain some sort of self control on this plane."

Half an hour later, Mycroft is reading his book while Greg stares out the window. Clouds, clouds, and more clouds pass him and he sighs in boredom.

Mycroft pays no attention to him, he just continues reading his book.

Greg sits up straight in his chair so he can see over the seat. He glances around at all the sleeping people (they decided to take the night flight) and sits back in his seat. He looks out the window again and lightly runs his foot up Mycroft's leg.

Mycroft jumps. "Greg!"

Greg rolls his head to look at Mycroft. "Yes?" he asks, his voice sleepy. Or aroused. Mycroft can't tell.

"Are you sleepy or aroused?" he decides to ask.

Greg slyly smiles. "C.," he replies.

"C?"

"Option C: both."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Well, be sleepy but not aroused. Take a nap. No funny business on the plane."

"Define funny business," Greg says, leaning close.

Mycroft glares at him. "What you're doing."

Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek. "I just wanted to kiss you."

"Fine. But no more. Back to your seat."

Greg sits back. He reaches to unbuckle his seat belt, but it's already undone. He grins. "I'm going to the restroom, then," he announces. He turns to climb over Mycroft, but first he whispers in Mycroft's ear, "Knock twice if you want to join."

"I won't want to—" Mycroft starts, but Greg's already strutting very confidently down the isle.

Mycroft watches him walk down the isle, and Greg glances back and winks before disappearing into the tiny, tiny room.

"Fuck," Greg mutters as he closes the door. He roughly measures how big the room is. "Well, I miscalculated," he says.

Not twenty seconds later, there are two knocks on the door. Greg quickly opens the door and pulls Mycroft in. Mycroft, surely expecting sex, wastes no time before attacking Greg's lips. Mycroft pushes Greg until he hits the back wall, standing all the way over the toilet.

"Wait, I'm in the toilet," Greg says with Mycroft's lips still attached to his.

Mycroft takes one step back and lets Greg stand up straight, toilet out from between his legs. They stare at each other with their hands on their own hips, Mycroft mentally measuring the room.

"Well," Greg says.

"How are we doing this?" Mycroft demands. "I came back here with one intention and I'm not leaving until I've got it."

Greg huffs and looks at Mycroft. "Bossy one, aren't you?"

"You knew this," Mycroft says.

"Ok," Greg nods after a minute of silence between the two men. If I sit here, and you stand here…" Greg backs himself into the sink and Mycroft stands in front of him, their bodies right against each other.

"I can't get my hands to my trousers, Greg." Mycroft states.

Greg takes a deep breath. "Ok, back to where we were," he says, standing almost over the toilet again, Mycroft nearly against the door. "Take your pants off."

Mycroft wastes no time. Greg takes one of his shoes off to get his pant leg over his foot, then repositions himself against the sink.

"Jesus," Mycroft mutters, "You have no idea how unsanitary this is."

"Worse than that time at the—"

"I told you to stop speaking of that."

"It's one of my most fond memories," Greg says, pulling himself up onto the sink top.

Mycroft moves closer to him, standing between Greg's legs. He wraps his arms around Greg's waist and begins to kiss him. Greg quickly joins, only stopping a few minutes later to ask for lube.

"What?" Mycroft asks.

"Lube? You know? That stuff we use to—"

"I know what it's for!" Mycroft says. "What I mean is, what? You don't have any?"

Greg glares at Mycroft. "You don't?"

"No. You're the one who likes to have sex _everywhere_; I'd expect you to be the one to carry it _everywhere_."

"I don't want sex _everywhere_."

Mycroft gives Greg the 'oh please' look.

"Fair enough," Greg says. "Well I don't have any, and you don't have any, and—" Greg glances between their bodies. Neither of them are very, you know?, hard. "This isn't very hot, is it?"

Mycroft shakes his head. "I suppose we aren't ones for airplane sex."

Greg hops off the sink top and they both pull their pants up. "It did waste some time, though," Greg says.

Mycroft checks his watch. "Ten minutes shed off our flight."

"It's something," Greg says. He kisses Mycroft. "I love you," he says.

"I love you, too," Mycroft replies.

Mycroft leaves first back to their seats, then Greg a minute later.

The rest of the flight is quiet. Greg naps against his window until Mycroft wakes him to fasten his seatbelt.

Once they touch down in Houston, they go to a hotel to rest before their 6 PM flight to Cancun. It's the middle of the night in Houston, so as soon as they arrive, they change into pajamas to sleep.

"God I'm tired," Greg says, flopping on the bed. "And I shouldn't be. It's, you know, morning in London."

Mycroft walks to the bed and flicks his lamp off. He slides into the bed and extends his arm to run fingers through Greg's hair. "I'm not all that tired," he informs Greg.

Greg turns onto his side facing Mycroft. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, I could de-sanitize the entire room, or…" Mycroft leans down and kisses Greg's ear. "We could resume our airplane plans."

Greg smiles the sleepy aroused smile. "What do you have in mind?" he asks before Mycroft lays next to him and kisses him.

Later that night they get on a flight to Cancun. The resort they have reservations at is a five star hotel with everything. Their room is a private apartment off the main hotel, complete with a kitchen. Mycroft instantly picks up the phone, mutters a few things in Spanish, and hangs up.

"What was that?" Greg asks.

"Just ordering two cases of bottled water and packaged foods."

"Why?" Greg asks as if it's the most absurd request ever.

"I'm not risking…anything in Mexico," Mycroft says.

Greg chuckles. "Really? This is a classy hotel."

"Still not risking it," Mycroft says.

After they rest a while and attempt to get used to the time change, Greg and Mycroft enjoy a dinner at one of the hotel's restaurants. Greg grins when the waiter refers to Greg as Mr. Lestrade-Holmes and Mycroft as Mr. Holmes-Lestrade.

"Why are you grinning like that?" Mycroft asks when the waiter leaves.

"Nobody's called us that, yet."

"I'm sure someone has."

Greg shrugs. "Then I'm grinning because it'll never get old."

The next day they go sight seeing. Not much happens, but they soak in the culture and the scenery. The weather is perfect and Greg enjoys it very much. Mycroft, however, gets sunburned.

"I told you to put on sunscreen," Greg says, rubbing aloe-vera lotion on Mycroft.

"It's not my fault I burn. You're lucky, your skin looks amazing with a bit of sun."

The day after that, Greg makes Mycroft go to the beach. Mycroft pouts the way he does each and every time they've gone to the beach. Greg _makes _him put sunscreen on, and by makes him, Greg tackles Mycroft to the ground, sits on him, and rubs it all over his body, all the while Mycroft pretty much kicks and screams.

"I hate you," Mycroft says as he stands and brushes sand off himself.

"Is that any way to speak to your husbands?" Greg asks.

"According to almost everyone's marriage I've ever seen, yes that's a way to talk to your spouse."

Greg laughs. "I love you," he says, leaning over to Mycroft and kissing him.

"I love you too," Mycroft says, glaring and attempting to wipe sunscreen off his chest.

The next day they decide to rent a car and just drive around. They don't know where they're going or where they end up, they just follow the coast. They laugh and smile the entire time, and near nightfall they turn back to Cancun, but not before they pull over to make out on the hood of the rental car.

The day after that they don't leave their room at all. It's a rather relaxing day.

On the final day, they fly up to California to stay in a hotel in San Diego. Greg loves San Diego so he wanted to visit just for a day while on this side of the world. They stay in San Diego for one night, and the next night they fly back to England.

"Well this has been a great honeymoon, love," Greg says, kissing Mycroft's cheek and unfastening his seat belt.

Mycroft sits up straight and checks for people watching them. When there are none, he settles back into his seat and struggles to reach into his jacket pocket.

"What are you doing?" Greg asks, chuckling.

Mycroft pulls out a 'travel size' bottle of lubricant and wink at Greg. "Honeymoon isn't over," he says before quickly kissing Greg and hurrying down the isle.

Greg chuckles and sits back in his seat. He looks out the window once, then slowly stands and waltzes down the isle. Once he gets to the door, Mycroft pulls him in and their honeymoon comes to a pleasant, pleasant end.

**_*Sorry for the long delay, guys. I've been working on my newest story _Colors _that you should all totally check out. Thanks! Review! : ) _**


	80. Chapter 80

**Couple 2**

John is the first to bring up the honeymoon. He brings it up the day after the wedding.

"So, where should we go?" he asks.

"For what?"

"For our honeymoon."

Sherlock looks at John. "We have to go somewhere?"

John looks back at Sherlock. "You don't want to go anywhere?"

"Well, not really. What if I get a case?"

"That's the point, Sherlock. I want you to be case-free for a few days so I can enjoy our new marriage to myself."

"Well why do we have to go anywhere? Why can't we just tell everyone to leave us alone?"

"You know that will not work."

Sherlock scowls. "I don't want to go anywhere."

"Well I do."

"Why?"

John shrugs. "Well…I…it'll be romantic…"

"You just want to have sex with me in another country, don't you?"

John looks hurt. "That's not the reason I want to go on a honeymoon—"

Sherlock looks at him unconvinced. "It's not like it's going to hurt me if you say that's it, John. I just don't understand why you want to go elsewhere to do so."

"That's what people do, Sherlock. Normal people. They go on honeymoons."

"Fine, John. Where do you want to go?"

"How about Paris? Rome? Barcelona? Berlin?"

"I've been to all of those places!" Sherlock whines.

John leans over and nibbles Sherlock's ear. "I'm not going to want to see the sites outside the room," John whispers in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock's eyebrows perk with curiosity. "No?"

John takes Sherlock's face in hand and makes Sherlock face him. He shakes his head, making his nose rub against Sherlock's. He gives Sherlock a sly smile and kisses him. Sherlock smiles into the kiss.

So they decide on Paris because it had the cheapest plane tickets and the best weather expected. Sherlock wasn't all that happy, but during the plane ride, he began to come around to the idea.

"This may not be so bad, John," he says, attempting to recline his seat as much as possible.

"I told you. It'll be nice. Get out of town for a few days, relax. It will be great."

And it is great. Their hotel is beautiful. Their room is on the top floor, so they have a view of the city. The sky is clear and beautiful. And of course they're together.

"I'm glad we're here, love," John says, wrapping an arm around Sherlock as they stand on the balcony looking at the glowing city. They just had dinner on their balcony, and now they're looking out.

"It is great," Sherlock says. "Especially being here with you."

John smiles against Sherlock's shoulder. "Are you ready for bed?"

Sherlock grins. "Waiting on you."

The next morning, John goes downstairs for the newspaper and to let Sherlock peacefully sleep for a while. He walks around on the street for a few minutes, then goes back up to their room. He smiles at Sherlock's sleeping form on the bed.

"Morning," Sherlock mutters.

John nearly jumps. "I didn't know you were awake."

"I just woke when you came in," Sherlock says, turning over. "Come back to bed now."

John toes his shoes off and falls back onto the bed. He kisses Sherlock and runs fingers through his curly hair.

"Ugh," Sherlock snorts, "You smell like France."

John laughs. "What does France smell like?"

Sherlock sniffs John again and wrinkles his nose. "Awful."

John laughs again. "Ok, change that then."

Sherlock smiles. "My pleasure," he says, pushing John onto his back and laying over him.

After that, they order breakfast and John makes Sherlock eat. After breakfast, they take a walk for the sake of having something to talk about other than sex when everyone back home asks what they did over their honeymoon. They don't really site see, they just walk around for a while until lunch time, when they dip into a nice restaurant to have a meal.

After lunch, they walk back to their hotel to have a nap. It's not much of a nap, they just lay in bed and talk, but it counts as rest so they call it a nap. After their nap they have sex again, but that's all the boring stuff, right?

The next day is much the same, as is the day after. However, the third day is a bit different.

John starts off with the touching, and Sherlock is less enthusiastic. He kisses John back and tries his best to be interested, but after a few minutes, John grows annoyed.

"What is wrong?" John asks, rolling off Sherlock and onto his back next to him.

"Nothing," Sherlock says. "Why did you stop?"

"Because something is wrong with you."

"Do you want to know the truth?" Sherlock asks.

"That is what I'm asking."

"I'm bored, John," Sherlock sighs.

"Bored?" John sounds hurt. "You didn't seem bored this morning when we were in the shower."

"That was this morning, this is now."

"What happened? Why is now different?"

"This is just all we've done, John. It gets tedious after a while."

John scowls at the ceiling. "Look, Sherlock, if you don't want to sleep with me anymore, that's fine."

Sherlock turns onto his side facing John. "I'm sorry John. I just can't anymore."

"It's fine Sherlock. We go home tomorrow." John turns onto his side, his back facing Sherlock.

Sherlock frowns. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You did, though."

Sherlock wraps his arm around John and pulls him close. "You have the rest of your life to sleep with me, John. Can we please just cool it for a few days?"

John doesn't answer for a few seconds, still hurt, then says, "Just go to sleep."

The next morning John wakes up and immediately begins packing. He doesn't even bother showering first thing like he usually does, instead he angrily throws clothes into their bags.

When he's finished he showers. He scowls as he shampoos his hair and soaps his body, and as he's about to finish, Sherlock steps in.

"What are you doing?" John demands.

Sherlock doesn't reply, instead he attacks John's mouth with a deep kiss.

John quickly pushes him away. "Wow, wow. What are you doing?"

"I can't initiate intercourse with my husband in the shower?"

"I mean," John briefly glances at Sherlock's now wet form. "You can, I'm just…confused."

"About?"

"Well, yesterday. Last night you said you didn't want to…and now…you do?"

"I changed my mind. And I want you now. Is that so bad?"

John shakes his head and kisses Sherlock back.

At the airport, Sherlock pouts in line. "Do we have to go home?"

"You're the one who didn't even want to come!"

"I changed my mind. Now I don't want to go home."

"Well," John thinks. "I suppose we could stay another day or two."

Just then, Sherlock's phone rings. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sherlock," Lestrade says on the other side. "I hate to bother you, but I was wondering when you're coming back?"

"We're at the airport on our way home now. Why?"

"Could you call me as soon as you get back? I've got something for you."

Sherlock smiles. "Perfect," he says.

Sherlock hangs up and John looks at him. "Honeymoon over?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "Very."

John sighs. "It was fun while it lasted."

Sherlock kisses John's head. "I love you," he says.

John smiles up at his new husband. "I love you, too."

_***Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait and for this poor chapter. It probably isn't very good but I felt like writing so here it is. Thanks for reading and being patient! **_


	81. Chapter 81

**Couple 1**

There are many days worth celebrating in the Holmes-Lestrade household. Of course there are birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, but very, very early in their relationship, there were none of those.

It's only three weeks into their relationship. Every other night is date night, intimacy is still slow, and being together is still new and brings butterflies. And they're both very happy.

March 14th rolls around and Mycroft wakes with a smile on his face even though he's in bed alone. March 14th is always a very good day, ever since he was young and began celebrating the day.

He wakes a slices himself a piece of pie. He doesn't even shower or brush his teeth first. He goes right to the kitchen.

As he cuts it, he thinks of his brother; how harsh his brother is about his diet; how cruel he can be even though he's on the other side of the eating spectrum. Mycroft happily eats his pie anyway. He's been doing well on his diet and he knows he deserves it.

When he's two bites in, he hears Greg walk in. Sometimes Greg stops by on his way to work, and Mycroft's glad today's one of those days.

"Mycroft?" Greg calls through the flat. "Are you still here?"

Mycroft calls for Greg from the kitchen. Greg walks through the door to see Mycroft happily eating his pie.

"Mycroft." Greg states and smiles.

"Hello, Greg."

Greg walks to the table and sits. "What are you doing?"

"I am having pie," Mycroft happily says.

Greg chuckles. "Pie? For breakfast?"

"It's a very important day," Mycroft states. "I always have pie for breakfast on March fourteenth."

Greg looks confused. "Why?"

Mycroft stares at him, hoping Greg will catch on. He doesn't. Right then, Mycroft finishes his pie. "Figure it out," he says, standing and placing his plate in the sink. "If you figure it out before midnight, I'll reward you."

Greg grins. "How?"

Mycroft shrugs. "Figure it out."

All day Greg thinks about the seemingly un-difficult riddle Mycroft gave him. _Why would today be so special?_ he asks himself. _Sweets for breakfast, very happy this morning…_

Around noon, he gets a case. Greg heads to the scene with his team and finds six bodies in a circle around a pile of rotten fruit. Greg's obviously very confused, so he looks everything through and instructs everyone to gather data before they call Sherlock.

"Did anyone measure the circle?" Greg asks his team.

They all look at each other confused.

"It might have something to do with…anything," he informs them. He instructs someone to measure the circle.

"Well what's the radius?" he hears Anderson ask.

"Does it matter?" Donovan replies.

"It might. What's the formula for radius?"

"I don't know," Donovan says. "It's not something I have to use."

"Hmm," Anderson says. "Isn't it something like two-pi-are?"

"I don't know," Donovan snaps.

Greg thinks it over. Anderson sounds right. "That's it, Anderson."

Anderson nods. "What's pi?"

"What do you mean what's pi?"

"The numbers to pi?"

Greg stares at him like he's an idiot. "Three point one four."

Anderson nods.

When they get back to the office, Greg sits to do paperwork.

"Damnit," he mutters to himself. "What is the date?"

He unlocks his phone to check the date and sees that it's 3-14. He then remembers Mycroft's riddle. He taps his pen on his mouth and thinks that over.

When he finishes his paperwork, he heads home for the evening. He drives to his flat for his date with Mycroft, and the whole way he thinks of Mycroft's riddle.

"Pie…March fourteenth…" He passes a bakery on the way and sees a large sign that says 'Free Pi if you mention the date!'. He thinks that over, too. The 'e' in 'pi' was missing. But then…_pi…pie…March fourteenth… _

"I've got it!" Greg shouts to himself as he pulls up to his building. "It's Pi Day!" He heads upstairs and laughs the whole way. _Of course Mycroft would celebrate a day for a math symbol. _

When he's ready for their date, Greg goes to Mycroft's house. He knocks on the door and grins as he waits for Mycroft to answer.

"Greg," Mycroft says as he opens the door.

"I figured it out," Greg replies, stepping past Mycroft.

"Figured what out?"

"Your celebration!"

Mycroft laughs. "What is it then?"

"It's _Pi_ Day, you crazy genius."

Mycroft laughs again. "You did figure it out. Well done."

"What is my reward then?" Greg asks, stepping closer to Mycroft.

Mycroft grins and kisses Greg quickly. "I can offer you a slice of pie."

Greg laughs. "Deal," he says.

Next year, Greg won't forget Pi Day. He'll remember it _and _buy Mycroft's pie.

**Couple 2**

Everyone does something weird. Rather, everyone _likes _something weird. Ok, everyone _obsesses _over something weird.

As a child, doing and liking and obsessing over things are natural. All children have their own interests and they're always encouraged.

Except Sherlock's.

Maybe that's why he's never grown out of it. Because now he's an adult and can be in charge of his own life. Or maybe because he's always been an adult, even when he was a child, so he's never…you know…grown. Or maybe it's because his interest is super awesome and who cares he can like it if he wants.

On September 19th of their first year together, Sherlock wakes up smiling.

"Mornin', 'Lock," John says.

"Good Mornin'."

John instantly opens his eyes. It's not what Sherlock said. Sherlock says good morning to him every single morning. But it's how Sherlock said it. "Are you ok?" he asks.

"Of course I be ok," Sherlock replies in the same voice he had before.

John looks very confused. "Why are you talking like that?"

"This be how we talk while sailin' t' seven seas."

"Ok," John says, sitting up. "What the fuck?"

Sherlock stares at John.

"Why are you talking like that?" John asks again.

"This be how—"

"Don't," John warns. "Please. In English. Why are you talking like that?"

Sherlock sits up and moves to get out of bed. "This be English, wench!" he shouts as he goes to their bathroom.

"Great," John mutters to himself. "He's broken."

Sherlock talks like that for the remainder of the morning. John just glares at him, not saying anything more to Sherlock.

Some time later, Sherlock kneels next to John's chair and rests his chin on John's chair arm. "Arrr," he says, getting John's attention. "What be for lunch?"

John glares at him. "Do you want to speak like a normal human being?"

Sherlock glare back. "This be normal for me, wench."

"Why do you keep calling me wench? Why do you keep talking like this? Why are you acting so odd?"

Sherlock doesn't say anything.

"Stop it," John says.

"Never," Sherlock says in the weird voice.

"I want you to stop because it is annoying me."

Sherlock stands, turns away from John, and goes to his bedroom, slamming the door as he enters.

John sits in his chair and wonders if he should either A) know why Sherlock is acting strange or B) if he should go after Sherlock. He decides B is definite, so he gets off his chair and goes to their bed.

John sees Sherlock sitting in their bed on his laptop.

"Can we talk?" John asks.

Sherlock nods.

"Can we talk…normally?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"I'm just trying to understand."

Sherlock closes his laptop. "Fine. I never thought you'd be someone to not let me…_be_."

"Be what, Sherlock?"

"A pirate."

"A pirate? Is that what you're doing?"

Sherlock nods.

"Why are you trying to be a pirate?"

"Because it's September nineteenth."

"And?"

Sherlock looks sad, like nobody ever understands him. "It's Talk Like a Pirate Day."

John giggles.

"What?" Sherlock demands.

"Well now that I understand, it's actually incredibly adorable."

Sherlock shyly looks down.

John grabs his chin. "Hey, I'm sorry, ok? I shouldn't have gotten annoyed."

"It's ok," Sherlock says.

John kisses him and smiles. "Why did you want to be a pirate, anyway?"

"I really liked Peter Pan when I was young. I wanted to be Captain Hook."

"But he was the villain," John claims.

"Yes, but he was smart, and in charge, and he had a hook for a hand."

John laughs. "Cute, love. Very cute."

Sherlock smiles. "You could be Smee, if you'd like."

"Why? Because I do as you tell me? Because I'm short and round? Because I'm often useless and silly?"

"First of all, you are never useless and only silly at times. But you can be Smee because he was Captain Hook's best friend. And you are mine."

John smiles. "That is true, I suppose. Do Captain Hook and Smee kiss?"

"No, they do not. So I suppose you'll have to be someone else."

John pretends to think about it. "Why do you call me wench?"

Sherlock grins.

"What is a wench, Sherlock?"

Sherlock grins again. "Sort of…like a prostitute."

John stares at him. "Is that what I am to you?"

Sherlock bites his lip. "I suppose you don't need to be Smee after all."

John rolls his eyes. "Come on, Captain. You asked about lunch."

"Arrr," Sherlock agrees, getting off the bed. "You be Captain tomorrow."

"Mmm," John murmurs. "Captain Watson has the potential to be more frightening than Captain Hook."

Sherlock smiles. "Lookin' fore t' it."

John laughs.

They continue with their Talk Like a Pirate Day, and the next year John does not disappoint with it.

**Couple 3**

In October of 2012, the MorMor household goes through a celebration of their own. It's October 4th and Jim is getting ready.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" he asks.

"You're serious about that?"

"Yes, of course," he says. "You know how I feel about it now. And it's your fault."

Sebastian sighs, still regretting showing Jim the James Bond films. October 5th is James Bond Day, and Jim is very, very serious about it.

"I regret showing you those movies," Sebastian says. "What are we going to do?"

"Watch all of the films—"

"Honey, we can only watch like five—"

"Wear tuxedos—"

"There's no way in hell—"

"Drink martinis, shaken no—"

"Not stirred, yes I know. We are not drinking all day."

When Sebastian wakes the next morning, Jim hands him a martini and drags him to the sofa.

"I stand corrected," he says, sniffing his drink and looking Jim up and down. "Apparently we are going to drink all day and wear tuxedos."

Jim huffs. "It's a virgin martini. And since I knew you wouldn't want to wear a tuxedo," Jim goes to their bedroom for a minute and returns with a bag. "I got this for you."

Sebastian stares at Jim as he pulls a shirt out of the bag. He holds the shirt up and sees that it's got a tuxedo top printed on it. Sebastian laughs. "Where did you find this?"

"At a department store for other slobs like you," he says, sitting next to Sebastian. "Now put it on, the first one is in the DVD player."

Sebastian rolls his eyes and slips his new shirt on, then sits back at watches the first movie with Jim. Jim decided on the new Casino Royale first, and Sebastian stares at Jim and watches Jim's excitement.

When the movie ends, Jim eagerly switches discs.

"You're far too happy," Sebastian says.

"There is no such thing as _far too happy. _I am just very, very happy."

Jim walks back to the sofa and Sebastian lifts his arm for Jim to sit right next to him. Jim does and Sebastian wraps the arm around Jim's shoulders.

"I do love seeing you like this," Sebastian says. "And I'm glad you're not drinking real martinis because I couldn't imagine you drunk _and _this happy."

Jim bashfully looks away and delicately sets his martini glass down.

"Jim."

Jim looks away.

"Jim what are you drinking?"

Jim starts the movie.

"Jim."

Jim rubs his face. His face that is unusually rosy.

"Jim you are unusually rosy."

Jim rubs his eyes. His eyes that are unusually glossy.

"Jim your eyes are unusually glossy."

Jim clears his throat.

"Jim you are drunk aren't you?"

Jim nods.

Sebastian loudly sighs and hangs his head. "It's eleven AM."

"It's a special day."

"I shouldn't have shown you these movies."

"You shouldn't have."

Sebastian shakes his head. "Ok, just this one day, then. Got it?"

Jim nods. "But Seb?"

Sebastian looks at Jim. "Yes?"

"What if I _am _James Bond?"

"You are not James Bond."

"Why not?" Jim asks, disappointed.

"Do you want me to list the reasons why you are not James Bond? Other than the fact that he is fictional."

Jim looks sad.

"Ok," Sebastian says. "Just this once. You can be James Bond today."

Jim smiles. "Thanks, Seb."

Sebastian laughs. "Watch the movie, James Bond."

Jim nods and watches the television.

Every year after, they have James Bond Day on October 5th, and Jim gets to be James Bond for a day.

_***So today actually is James Bond Day, so I decided to do a celebration day that isn't traditional. This one's obviously just silly and goofy. My favorite silly day would be May 25**__**th**__**, Towel Day, or April 22**__**nd**__**, 2011, which is the day the Doctor died. I can't think of any more. But for James Bond Day today I'm celebrating with a virgin martini because I am still underage. : ) **_


	82. Chapter 82

**Couple 1**

"Please, just don't make a big deal about it," Mycroft begs.

"We've been together many months, I've known you far longer than that; how did I not know your date of birth?"

"I didn't want you to know. It's not a big deal."

"It is! Birthdays are a big deal. What do you want to do tomorrow? Do you want to take a holiday? How about we have a nice dinner?"

"I'd like to wake up, go to work, come home, and that's all."

Greg looks sad. "You don't want to have dinner or anything?"

"No. I'm not very fond of my birthday. I'd like to have a day of peace."

Greg sighs and agrees. He and Mycroft resume their dinner date, and as they're walking home, Mycroft asks how Greg found out about his birthday at all.

"Did Sherlock tell you?"

Greg shakes his head. "John did."

Mycroft nods as if he should have known. "Well, please don't do anything about it. Like I said, I am not very fond of my birthday."

Greg nods. "Ok, Mycroft. I promise."

The next morning, Greg wakes up before Mycroft and turns over to look at his love. "Good morning," Greg whispers.

"Hmm," Mycroft sighs.

"Hap—" Greg tries.

"Don't!"

Greg frowns and gets out of the bed.

All day, Mycroft just decides to ignore Greg. Greg calls him twice while at work and Mycroft doesn't answer; he doesn't respond to Greg's dinner invitation. He spends the day with his head clear of birthday related things. And that's how he likes it. Mycroft's mother used to make a big deal about his and Sherlock's birthdays when they were young. After he left the house, he stopped caring for his birthday. And it's been that way ever since.

When Mycroft gets home, Greg's there waiting outside the door. Greg doesn't have a key yet so he was patiently waiting for an hour.

"Hello Greg," Mycroft greets him.

"How are you?" Greg asks as they enter the flat.

"It was fine. What are you doing here?"

"What? I can't just come visit my boyfriend?"

Mycroft sighs. "I want a day alone, Greg," Mycroft says.

Greg looks angry. "You don't even want to see me?"

Mycroft shakes his head. "No. I don't. I'm sorry, but I want to be alone."

Greg nods and leaves without saying anything.

Greg leaves Mycroft alone for the rest of the evening. Part of him is far too angry about Mycroft casting him away, and the other part of him knows Mycroft needs his space. Greg goes to bed without calling or texting Mycroft.

The next morning, Greg wakes up feeling alone. He misses Mycroft, and he remembers that it's not Mycroft's birthday anymore. So he gets ready as quickly as he can and goes to Mycroft's.

As he's about to knock, Mycroft opens the door.

"Ahh," Mycroft says, "You're back."

"Yeah," Greg mutters before leaning in and kissing Mycroft.

Mycroft gasps but kisses him back. When they break apart, Mycroft slowly blinks at him. "Why did you do that?"

"I missed you, ok? It's not fair that you didn't let me see you yesterday."

"Really?"

"Yes," Greg wraps his arms around Mycroft. "I want to celebrate _you. _I love you."

Mycroft smiles. "Thank you. I love you, too."

Greg smiles back. "Can I celebrate you today? It's not your birthday."

Mycroft nods. "Dinner tonight?"

Greg smiles wide. "My pleasure."

**Couple 2**

Sherlock loves John's birthday because he loves John. John is the best thing in his life, so he wants to celebrate that.

In their first year together, he was a bit…rubbish at it.

"John, wake up," Sherlock whispers.

"No," John answers.

"I got you a gift."

John opens one eye. "What?"

Sherlock quickly presses his lips against John's. This makes John grin. He opens his eyes and sits up. "What is it?"

Sherlock hands John a bucket wrapped in paper.

"What the hell is this?" John demands.

Sherlock eagerly stares at him. "Open it."

John sighs and opens it. It's a bucket of noses. He glares at Sherlock.

"What?" Sherlock asks.

"You're an idiot," John mutters, pushing the bucket back onto John's lap. He tucks himself back into his bed and shuts his eyes. "Make me breakfast," John says.

Sherlock sighs and leaves the room.

A while later, when John's in the shower, Sherlock barges in. "I've got something else!"

John pulls the curtain back and stares at Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes travel down John's body. John clears his throat. Sherlock looks back at his face. "What?" John asks.

Sherlock holds up shoebox wrapped in paper. John takes it and unwraps it. Then he glares at Sherlock. "It's a shoebox," John glances at it, "With four dead mice in it."

"You don't like it?" Sherlock asks.

John glares at him.

Sherlock frowns and takes the box back.

An hour later, John's sitting in his chair with the morning paper and Sherlock waltzes in with another something wrapped in paper.

"What's this?" John asks. "Toes? Tongues? Spiders?"

Sherlock scowls.

"It's tongues, isn't it?"

Sherlock scowls harder.

John sighs. "Don't even bother, love."

Sherlock scowls even more and goes back to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later he comes back with nothing. He sits on John's lap and John grunts in frustration.

"I just don't know what to do, John," Sherlock says, snuggling deeper into John's lap.

John cradles Sherlock's long body and rests his face against Sherlock's shoulder. He moans in delight of how comfortable he is. "This is what I want, love."

"What?" Sherlock looks at John. "This?"

John pulls Sherlock down and makes Sherlock fold his body so his head is resting on John's shoulder. "I just want this. You."

Sherlock looks up at John. "You could have told me."

John chuckles. "You could have not tried to give me tongues!"

Sherlock begins to chuckle. "That was a bit idiotic."

John kisses Sherlock's forehead. "I appreciate the gesture, love."

Sherlock closes his eyes. John shakes him. "Come on," John says, "Let's go back to bed."

Sherlock nods and climbs off John's lap, then let's John lead him to their bed.

Years following, Sherlock is better at birthdays, but the first one was his favorite.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian wakes up to a pillow hitting the back of his head.

"Come on, Seb," Jim says. "We've got a client."

Sebastian sighs and wakes up, then gets ready and follows Jim out the door.

At the client's office, Jim is very mean to Sebastian. Sebastian doesn't want to take the case, but Jim insists they do, so they get into a fight in the elevator of the building.

"Just stop talking!" Jim finally shouts as they reach the ground floor. The doors open and he storms out.

Sebastian follows like a sad puppy.

"Stop pouting," Jim says as they step onto the street.

"I'm not pouting."

"You are pouting, you big baby. I wanted that client."

"Then why didn't you take it?"

"Because you're pouting!"

Sebastian scowls.

They go to a place for lunch. Jim orders, then he turns to Sebastian to order. "What are you going to get, you big baby?"

Sebastian glares, then he orders.

"You don't have to treat me that way in front of strangers," Sebastian says.

"You've got a problem, you baby?"

"Yes! Go back to the client and kiss his arse like you were."

"Is that why you're upset, Sebastian?"

"No. I'm upset because of the way you treated me and the way you're still treating me."

Jim takes a deep breath. "Fine. I'm sorry," he says. Then he mutters under his breath, "You big baby."

Sebastian slams his coffee cup on the table.

Later, at home, Sebastian goes straight to their bedroom. He stays there all afternoon and practically growls at Jim everytime Jim tries to get close.

"Stop fucking pouting, you baby," Jim says.

Sebastian growls.

Later that evening, Sienna calls. Jim answers Sebastian's phone, then gives it to Sebastian.

Sebastian talks to Sienna for a while, then Logan, and when he hangs up, Jim asks why she called.

"No reason," Sebastian says.

"Ugh!" Jim shouts. "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"I hate when you keep things from me."

"Oh my gosh," Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Now who is the baby?"

"Me. What did Sienna want?"

Sebastian sighs. "She wanted to tell me happy birthday. Are you happy?"

Jim looks confused. "Wait…today is…"

"Yes, you arse. Today is my birthday."

Jim looks at Sebastian, not really sure what to say. "I'm sorry, Seb, I guess I—"

"It's fine, really."

"No, it's not. I was a complete jerk to you all day. I should have remembered."

Sebastian smiles. "Yeah, you should have."

Jim hugs Sebastian. "I'm sorry. Let me take you to dinner."

Sebastian hugs him back. "It is the least you could do."

Jim laughs. "Come on, then. Anything you want."

Sebastian smiles again. "I know just the place…"

_***So I'm sure I've done birthdays and this is quite short, but yesterday was my birthday so I wanted to do birthdays again. Thanks for reading! Sorry I've taken so long with this one, but you all should check out my other, newer stories. Thanks! : ) **_


	83. Chapter 83

**Couple 1**

"You're one of the most powerful men in London—"

"No, I'm not—"

"I can't believe you're afraid of heights."

Mycroft glares. "It's a very common phobia, Greg. It shouldn't be that hard to believe."

Greg shakes his head. "You, of all people. I can't believe it. How can you handle flying?"

Mycroft innocently looks away. "If you must know, I drug myself."

Greg chuckles, but it turns into a full laugh. "You do, what?!"

"Motion sickness pills, Greg. They work for me."

Greg continues to laugh. "I just can't believe you almost threw up at the top of The Gherkin."

Mycroft rubs his eyes, his stomach turning at the memory. "The point is that I didn't."

"You were green!"

"It's not like I'm the only person on Earth with an irrational fear," Mycroft states. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the only person in _this room _with an irrational fear."

Greg's face goes straight.

"Sherlock told me about the building incident last week."

"He didn't."

"Oh, yes he did. I recall the words, 'screamed like a little girl,' and 'ran faster than I've ever seen anybody run,'."

Greg's nostrils flair. "Look, that's…that's different…"

"How, exactly?"

"I had a bad experience as a child."

"Did you wet the bed like the old superstition tells?"

"What?! No!"

Mycroft laughs. "What happened?"

Greg lifts his chin. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. Did you singe off one of your eyebrows?"

"No."

"Blow something up?"

"No."

"At least tell me how old you were."

Greg sighs. "I was seven."

Mycroft nods. "Now tell me what you did."

"No! I will not tell you!"

"You know, if it was in the news, I will find it."

"Good thing it wasn't."

Mycroft nods again. "Alright, you win." He stands from the couch while taking his phone out.

Greg glances at him. "Where are you going? Who are you calling?"

Mycroft casually steps into their bedroom and says, "Your mother!" before slamming the door shut and locking it.

Twenty minutes later, Mycroft goes back into the living room. Greg is sitting on the couch, his arms crossed and his bottom lip out in a pouty face.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Oh, stop. I called your mother. I should have called the police."

"I am the police!"

"You're not in charge of arson."

"I was seven."

"Then tell me, my dear, how did you manage to burn a house down at age seven?"

"First of all, nobody lived in the house. It was abandoned. I was playing with matches and I got carried away. I was in the kitchen, and it sort of…exploded. That's why I'm so afraid of fire." Greg shifts in his seat so he's looking at Mycroft. "Why are you asking me? Didn't my mother just tell you?"

Mycroft laughs. "I didn't call your mother."

"What?!"

"I just said that so you would tell me."

"How did you know I burned a house down?"

"I didn't. I guessed. Had you not done that, you would have said something like, 'I didn't burn a house down!' and I would have said, 'Was your mother exaggerating?', then you would have told me the story."

Greg shakes his head. "You're ridiculous sometimes."

"I am smart."

"And afraid of heights."

"How often do I need to be in a tall building?"

"How often do I need to be in a burning building?"

"Good point," Mycroft says.

After a few minutes of silence, Greg says, "Everyone is afraid of something ridiculous."

"Yes," Mycroft agrees. "Especially you."

**Couple 2**

John likes to mess with Sherlock. Sherlock can be a huge baby sometimes, especially with what he's afraid of.

Which is why John likes to buy little tiny plastic spiders and place them in random places around the flat. There are a few in kitchen cabinets, one in the refrigerator, two in Sherlock's night stand, one in the shower, and occasionally one in Sherlock's shoes. He absolutely hates spiders.

After a while, Sherlock got used to the plastic spiders. They stopped startling him when he opened cabinets, and a lot of the time he just greets them.

One afternoon, Sherlock spills half of his experiment on himself, so he goes into the bathroom to clean up. He empties his pockets and places them on the sink top, then he takes off his shirt and trousers and tosses them into the hamper right behind the door, then goes to turn the shower on.

When he turns around, there's a very large spider right in front of the door. Sherlock jumps at the site, then he figures John rigged it somewhere to fall when Sherlock closed the door, or something. That's what he tells himself.

So he steps close to the spider and extends his leg to touch it with his toe, but when he gets close, the spider moves. Sherlock jumps back all the way to the tub and jumps onto the toilet. He take many deep breathes and calms himself, then reaches over to the sink for his phone.

He calls John.

"Hello?" John answers.

"John!" Sherlock whisper-shouts into the phone.

"Sherlock? Are you ok?"

"John! There is a spider in the bathroom!"

"I know, I put it there."

"Not the stupid fake one, John! A _real_ spider!"

"Where is it?"

"On the floor in front of the door."

Sherlock hears John chuckle.

"Don't laugh, John!"

"Are you standing on the toilet?"

Sherlock glances at the floor, unaware that he jumped onto the toilet. "No," he lies.

John laughs. "Well, what do you want me to do about this?"

"Come get it!"

"Oh, hell no. This is your problem."

The spider on the floor takes three steps towards the sink.

"John!" Sherlock shouts. "Please, John! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?"

"Yes, yes, anything! Please!"

"Alright," John says. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Sherlock hangs up and waits. And waits. And waits.

John does not hurry. John takes his time. John arrives home an hour later.

"Where have you been?!" Sherlock demands when John opens the door to the bathroom.

"I have a life, Sherlock."

"Nonsense," Sherlock says. "Now, get the spider."

John gets a good look at Sherlock. He's naked but for his pants, standing on the toilet with a spider at his feet. John laughs.

"Stop!" Sherlock shouts.

"You're unbelievable sometimes. Serial killers, arsonists, robbers, other mad criminals; but this little tiny spider," John leans down and picks the spider up. It fits in the palm of his hand. "This scares you."

Sherlock tries to step away from John, but he's cornered on the toilet.

"What's the matter, Sherlock?" John asks, holding the spider out to Sherlock. "It's just a little spider."

"Stop it, John. This isn't funny."

The spider crawls up John's arm. It's near his elbow when John extends his arms at Sherlock. "Give me a hug, love."

Sherlock yelps in terror, hops off the toilet, pushes John to the side, and runs out of the room.

John stands and laughs for ten minutes.

Finally John leaves the bathroom still holding the spider. He places it in a box and sets it on the kitchen table.

"That was not funny," Sherlock states.

"For you, maybe."

Sherlock glares. "You're very cruel sometimes."

"Yes, but so are you."

Sherlock glares harder.

John smiles. "This was fun," he says. "I'll be off."

Sherlock stands. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, Sherlock. I was in the middle of something."

"But…what if there's another?"

"Find high ground," John warns.

Sherlock frowns.

John laughs. "I'll be back."

He's about to leave the house, but Sherlock calls back, "John! The spider!"

John doesn't go back to get it. The spider in the box is there for a day.

_***I haven't been much in the writing mood. But tomorrow Mormor will be up. This one was about irrational fears. I talk about Sherlock's fear of spiders and John's fear in **_**All Their Differences Chapter 11. **_**Check that out if you'd like. Thanks! And sorry! **_


	84. Chapter 84

**Couple 3**

The morning after the pool incident, Jim and Sebastian lay awake in bed. The sun is slowly rising, the room gray due to clouds covering the light from the east. Soft raindrops bounce off the window.

"I'm glad everything worked out," Sebastian says.

"I'm a bit sad. I wanted them dead."

Sebastian rolls over onto his side facing Jim. In an out of character act, Sebastian wraps an arm around Jim. "I don't know what I would have done had I accidentally blown you up."

Jim chuckles. "I would have gotten out."

"Not likely. You would have had to jump into the pool."

Jim shudders at the thought. "I would have rather run through fire."

Sebastian laughs. "Why are you so afraid of water anyway?"

"I'm not afraid of water," Jim corrects him. "I'm afraid of drowning. Very different."

"Ok," Sebastian understands. "But why?"

Jim shrugs. "I can't remember. All I remember is having nightmares as a child, and never wanting to swim. My mother got me out of swimming lessons and things, but I was still afraid of falling into pools while the other kids were swimming."

"I don't know why you met Holmes at a pool, then. Seems like an advantage for him."

"Obviously it wasn't," Jim says. "Besides, it holds sentimental value for both of us." Jim closes his eyes and presses his face against the pillow, feeling suddenly drowsy once again.

Sebastian nods. "Is that why you killed that boy?"

"What do you mean?" Jim mumbles.

"Did he make fun of you, or something? He was obviously substantially larger than you, probably bigger than everyone, so he was probably a bully. And you had a fear of drowning, so you got out of swim classes. So he probably made fun of you. Am I wrong?"

Jim's eyes open instantly. "You worked all of that out?"

Sebastian nods. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

"No, apparently not."

Sebastian pinches Jim's side. "Very funny," he says. "Now are you going to answer the question?"

"Mmmm," Jim closes his eyes again. "No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"I just don't, ok? Drop it."

"Can't talk about it with me, but with Holmes—"

"Ugh!" Jim barks in frustration. "Not this again."

"You should just talk to me about things, ok? Keep me up to date with plans and things. Goodness, the last thing I needed last week was for you to go on a date! And the pool…and now you won't talk to me about this."

"I don't want to talk about this, ok? Just let it go, Sebastian. Please."

Sebastian takes a deep breath. "Fine," he says. He pulls Jim closer to himself and closes his eyes, too. "I'm glad we made it out of there," he says.

"Were you scared?"

"Not for myself."

"For me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because…I care about you. And I wanted you safe."

"You're so sweet," Jim mocks.

"If something happened to you, who would pay for my place to live and my clothes?"

Jim pinches his side. "Funny."

Sebastian laughs. "I'm kidding. I'm glad you didn't get blown up, and I'm glad you didn't drown."

"Thank you. I'm glad I didn't die, too."

Sebastian laughs and kisses Jim. "One day you will have to tell me what happened with that kid. Though I'm sure he made fun of you being afraid to swim."

"Why do you think that, anyway?"

"Because I want to make fun of you."

Jim laughs. "You're such an arse."

"I know," Sebastian says. "But you love me. Right?"

"Sadly, yes."

At that, they both pull each other closer than before and fall into a nice sleep.

_***This was Fears again. But I needed fluff. OOC, but that is rather the point. **_


	85. Chapter 85

**Couple 1**

Half an hour ago, Mycroft asked Greg to leave him alone. A lot of work needs to be done, Mycroft had said, and he really needed his space.

Well, Greg is in a good mood. A really good mood. He's a pretty jolly guy most of the time, but at this moment he just wants to _laugh_.

He starts by poking Mycroft in the ribs. He learned Mycroft is ticklish there about a year into their relationship and he will never, ever forget it. He pokes Mycroft.

"Stop it."

Greg giggles. He folds his arms on the table in front of him and rests his chin on his arms. He tries to look sweet, innocent.

Mycroft glances at him, then back to his work. "What is wrong with you?"

Greg giggles again. "Your glasses are sexy."

Mycroft sighs. "Are you drunk?"

"It's ten A.M."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Greg giggles.

"Please leave me alone, Greg. Please?"

Greg frowns as he sits up. "Ok," he says once and leaves.

He's back three minutes later. This time he sits across the table from Mycroft and flicks paper at him.

"Stop it."

Greg drops his head to the table and giggles.

"What is wrong with you?!" Mycroft shouts, throwing his papers onto the table.

Greg jumps. "Nothing! I'm in a good mood! I want to enjoy our weekend!"

"I'm very, very busy. Please go away. Find something to do. Go fishing. Go to the park. Go bug my brother, I don't care! Just go!"

Greg sighs. "Ok, I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you!"

Greg nods and walks silently to their bedroom.

He gives Mycroft twenty minutes this time before he grows restless. He paces their bedroom, then finally picks up a pillow and heads back to the dining room.

Mycroft doesn't look at him when he walks in. Greg silently stands behind Mycroft, holds up his pillow, and finally takes a swing at Mycroft. The pillow hits the back of Mycroft's head with so much force that Mycroft's face slams into the table in front of him. Greg immediately bursts into laughter, and Mycroft quickly sits up, his face red with anger.

"WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU?!"

"I'm sorry!" Greg laughs. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard!"

Mycroft quickly stands and darts at Greg before Greg can get proper footing. He grabs the pillow at slams it at Greg three times, then Greg runs away towards the living room.

Mycroft catches him at the sofa and tackles him onto the cushions. He sits on Greg's stomach and hits him with the pillow. "Can't you give me a day of peace, please?! Just one day!"

Greg laughs until he can't breath. He holds his hands up to protect himself. "Ok! Ok!" he gasps for breath. "I'll leave you alone!"

Mycroft hits him two more times. "Thank you! All I need is one day." He drops the pillow on the floor.

Greg grips Mycroft's hips. "Alright. I'm sorry!"

"Thank you. You're forgiven. I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

"Perfect."

Mycroft stands off Greg and begins to walk back to the dining room.

"Excuse me," Greg calls back to him. "I'd like a kiss please."

Mycroft pauses in the doorway. He turns around and grins. He walks back to the couch, attempting to look sexy in that rigid body, pauses at the sofa, and grins down at Greg. Greg smiles up at him. Mycroft leans down as if to kiss Greg, but instead he grabs the pillow and slams it into Greg's face. He laughs and walks back to the dining room.

"Unfair!" Greg shouts to him.

**Couple 2**

It started with two glasses of wine and two empty stomachs. Usually Sherlock only drinks with dinner, but tonight the two of them needed a bit of relaxation.

Three glasses each later, they're a messy heap on the sofa.

"It'th your turn," Sherlock slurs.

John giggles. "I think you've had enough, love. Come on. Food!"

"I'm not hungry," Sherlock whines. "I want th-ome more!"

John giggles again. "No! We're almost out anyway. The bottle's almost empty."

"It'th not empty yet…" Sherlock leans forward to grab the bottle, but John snatches it before he can grab it. "No fair!" Sherlock shouts as John drinks the last of it.

John laughs and drops the bottle to the floor, then attacks Sherlock. He presses messy kisses to Sherlock's face and neck.

Sherlock giggles before John's kisses tickle him. "John, John! What are you doing!"

"I want you, Sherlock! I want you so bad!"

Sherlock laughs. "You'll have to catch me first!" he shouts, then jumps off the sofa and runs away.

John shakes random dizziness out of his eyes before he can run after Sherlock. "I'll get you, Sherlock!" he shouts.

John runs after Sherlock and finds him standing in the middle of their bed holding John's large, fluffy pillow.

"Sherlock, what are you doing with that?"

Sherlock laughs. "I'm…thhhhh…" he randomly lisps for no reason.

John laughs. "That's not a word!" He opens his arms to catch Sherlock. He kneels on the bed.

Sherlock hits John with the pillow, knocking him onto his side on the bed. They both laugh and Sherlock stands over him. "I got you now, John!" he says. "You're all mine!"

John takes hold of Sherlock's ankles. "I'm always all yours, Sherlock."

Sherlock gives an evil laugh and hits John with his pillow. John tries to roll away, but Sherlock has him pinned. "No, no!" John shouts. "This isn't fair!"

"Nothing i-th fair!" Sherlock shouts.

"Get off!" John manages to wiggle away enough to grab his own pillow, then holds it up to shield himself. "I love you!" John shouts for no reason.

Sherlock drops his pillow and falls to his knees over John. "You do?"

"Of course, Sherlock. I love you!"

Sherlock leans over John to kiss him, but before he can, John hits him with his pillow.

"Ahhh!" Sherlock shouts. "No!"

John flips them over so he's on top of Sherlock, then hits him many times with his pillow.

"Th-top! Th-top!" Sherlock shouts, still laughing. "Th-top!"

"Give me one good reason I should stop?" John asks.

"Th-top and I'll have th-ekth with you."

John immediately stops. "Sex?"

"Ye-th."

He drops his pillow and rests his hands on either side of Sherlock's head. Leaning over Sherlock, he smiles. "Do you love me too?"

"Yeeeeeeeee-th, John. I do! I love you!"

John smiles. "I love you, too!"

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck. "You're th-ooo pretty, Johnny…" he says.

John kisses Sherlock, then expects things to turn heated, but instead Sherlock picks up a pillow and hits John over the head. They both laugh and resume their sweet little pillow fight.

**Couple 3**

Sebastian loves his pillow. He claims it's the only thing that keeps him sane. He claims he needs it to survive. He claims he loves it more than anything in the world.

Jim is jealous of said pillow. He knows it's what keeps Sebastian from killing him. He knows it's what keeps Sebastian from killing himself. He knows Sebastian loves it more than anything in the world.

Last night, Jim decided to be nice and wash the bedding. They needed to be changed anyway. So he switched the normal sheets and pillow cases with the spare ones and throws the normal ones in the washing machine right before bed.

Sebastian does not like this. "The spare sheets are spare sheets for a reason," he says. "This pillow case is scratching my face," he claims.

Nonetheless, he falls asleep, but the next morning he wakes grouchy.

"It was the sheets," he says.

"It was not the sheets," Jim protests.

They meet a client and all is well until, as usual, Sebastian disagrees with the client's request. A huge fight occurs, and the two men leave with red faces and hurtful words trying to jailbreak out of their mouths. Both men bite their own tongues all the way home, but once through the door, they break loose.

"This is your fault!" Sebastian shouts.

"_MY _fault?!" Jim questions. "How on earth is this my fault?"

"You had to go and make me soft! You had to make me care!"

"Oh, shut up! That's not why you disagreed, you're a softy on your own."

"This it's your fault I'm all messed up. My pillow didn't feel right last night because you decided to wash the sheets!"

"It's your fault the sheets were dirty."

"Oh my god!" Sebastian shouts. "I would feel so much better if I had my own pillow case on my own pillow. You threw me all off."

"You're such a baby. You should just be married to your damn pillow."

"Maybe I'd rather be married to my pillow," Sebastian mutters before stomping to his bedroom.

Jim follows, now just annoyed that Sebastian's being such a baby over a damn pillow. Sebastian flops down on the bed and grabs his pillow, then stuffs it under his head and closes his eyes.

_That fucking pillow, _Jim thinks. He walks over to the bed and forcefully grabs the pillow from under Sebastian's head.

"HEY!" Sebastian shouts, sitting up.

"You love this stupid thing so much," Jim says. He takes his tiny handgun from his belt, holds it at eye level, tosses the pillow into the air, and shoots it.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Sebastian shouts, jumping into a standing position on the bed and catching feathers that are raining all over the room.

"Damn," Jim mutters, "That felt good!"

"I'm going to kill you!" Sebastian shouts before jumping at Jim.

As soon as Sebastian leaves the bed, Jim tosses the gun to the nightstand and is thrown to the ground in one motion.

Sebastian sits on Jim's stomach and throws random punches. He doesn't mean them all that much, so he barely makes any contact with Jim's skin. Jim blocks his face and laughs because it's so _funny. _He feels so much relief of, in essence, killing that stupid pillow.

"Why are you laughing?!" Sebastian demands.

"Do you see how worked up you are?" Jim says. "You're ridiculous!"

"You shot my pillow!"

"I'll buy you a bloody new pillow!"

Sebastian stops and sits back on Jim's waist. Jim sits up as much as he can. "A better one?" Sebastian asks.

Jim laughs. "Yes, a better one. Whatever."

Sebastian half smiles. "You're a good husband," he hesitantly says.

Jim laughs at that. "Bet you've never seen yourself saying those words," he says.

"Still a bit weird," Sebastian says. "I'm sure I'll get used to it one day."

"Only if I'm a good husband."

Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim's neck and hugs him tight. "I love you," he says.

Jim returns the hug. "Goodness, when was the last time you actually slept?"

"I don't know!" Sebastian cries. "I'm so tired!"

Jim laughs. "You need a nap. Go on, in bed."

Sebastian pulls back and looks sad. "I don't have a pillow."

Jim rolls his eyes and chuckles. "I go get you one, you big baby."

Sebastian smiles and kisses Jim. "A really good one, I mean it. And no shooting this one. Ok?"

Jim laughs. "Ok. I won't shoot it."

_***I believe a Guest asked for pillow fights and Sherlock's lisp. Have there been pillow fights? Not sure. Hope you enjoy. Sorry I've been very busy. Prompt more, guys. I'd like to make it to 100! **_


	86. Chapter 86

**Couple 1**

Greg loves Christmas. From December first until January first, everything is Christmas. He plays the music, he sings carols around his own flat, he bakes for no reason. He just loves the season.

Recently he's hated Christmas. The new custody agreement only allows him to have his daughters every other Christmas. He doesn't like that. Of course it's unfair, for their mother to keep them all the way in Australia when even _her _family is here, but there's nothing Greg can do, right?

This year is the first year the agreement is active, so he won't be seeing his daughter on Christmas unless his Wi-Fi connection is strong. On December first, when Mycroft expects him to begin putting up decorations, Greg doesn't even notice the date.

The next day is the same, and the day after. Greg doesn't bring it up at all, but Mycroft notices his mood drastically decrease.

On the eighth day, Greg hardly even smiles. Mycroft decides to cook dinner that night. At the table, silence washes over them quickly.

"We're not going to talk about this?" Mycroft asks.

"Talk about what?" Greg demands.

"Why you're so…"

"…_so_?"

Mycroft clears his throat, unable to find the words. He comes right out with it, "We need to talk about the fact that you're not going to be seeing your daughters this Christmas."

Greg stutters out a broken sigh. "I don't want to, Mycroft—"

"We need to, Greg. You need get it all out. I don't like the mood you're in."

Greg slams his fist on the table. "I don't like it, either, Mycroft! You go ahead and try having a bitch of an ex-wife you keeps the best things in your life away from you and tell me how you feel after!"

Mycroft sits patiently as Greg yells.

"The only thing that matters, Mycroft, are my daughters! And I don't even get them for Christmas. That's just…that's just fucked up, Mycroft."

Mycroft opens his mouth to speak, but gets cut off before he starts.

"And _you _can't do anything about it! I know I can't, I couldn't even if I tried, but _you_! You, Mister 'I-Am-The-Government'. Mister 'I…'…." Greg can't think of anything else to label Mycroft. "God, I can't think of anything! But I know you could fix this!"

Mycroft clasps his hands together in front of his face. He says nothing.

"Don't just sit there!" Greg shouts, quickly standing from his seat. He slams his chair in against the table. "Say something, yell at me, too!"

Mycroft calmly stands. He softly pushes his chair in. He stands firm and crosses his arms.

"This all just _sucks, _Mycroft. And you're lucky, you don't have…children. You don't have a bitch ex-wife, and you don't have this piece of your heart missing when you don't have them with you. You don't have to deal with this! I'm so…" Thick tears form in Greg's eyes. "I'm so jealous of you, Mycroft," he says before his tears fall.

This time Mycroft reaches for him. He grasps Greg's arms and pulls him close, then wraps his arms around Greg's shoulders. Greg buries his face in Mycroft's neck.

"Don't say that," Mycroft says. Greg's breathing calms at the sound of Mycroft's voice. "I tried, Greg. I tried to fix it, but I couldn't. And I'm sorry I can't. But you know what?" Mycroft lifts Greg's head and makes Greg look him in the eye. "You're the piece of my heart that's missing when you're not with me." Mycroft presses his forehead to Greg's.

Greg cracks a smile. "Really?"

"Yes, Greg."

Greg's smile fades. "I'm sorry for yelling."

"Do you feel better?"

Greg nods.

"Then don't be sorry."

Greg takes a deep breath and pulls away. "I'm sorry I haven't been in the Christmas mood."

"Don't be," Mycroft says, letting Greg go and taking his seat at the table once again. "You know I'm not one for Christmas."

"I know, but I haven't even been in the mood to make an effort."

"Well, don't worry about it. All right?"

Greg nods. They resume their meal.

A week later, ten days to Christmas, Greg's mood has gotten better, but he still hasn't been in the Christmas spirit. It hurts Mycroft to see him still obviously hurt, so he takes matters into his own hands. He goes shopping and buys tons of Christmas lights. When he arrives home, he covers the entire flat in the lights. He strings them along the walls and ceiling, he hangs them everywhere.

When Greg arrives home, the flat is dark and quiet.

"Mycroft?" he calls out. "Are you here?"

From the entry to the hall, Mycroft flips the switch to turn on the lights. The entire place lights up with festive colors.

Greg glows, and not just from the lights. "What's this?"

"You needed some cheering up. I don't know much about Christmas music or decorations, but this seemed easy."

"You did all of this for me?" Greg slowly approaches Mycroft.

"Yes, I hope you like it."

Greg throws his arms around Mycroft and kisses him. "I love it. I love you."

Mycroft smiles. "Merry Christmas, Greg."

**Couple 2 (Warning for…sexual themes, I guess.)**

Sherlock…he always makes things sexy. To John at least. Of course Sherlock doesn't do it on purpose. Of course eating something is just eating something. And his fingers resting against his chin is just his natural thinking pose. And pulling off his scarf is just getting comfortable.

But to John it's that mouth, those fingers, that _neck. _Thinking about what Sherlock does naturally makes John's mouth go a bit dry, his palms sweat, and his heart race.

"How in the _hell _are you making Christmas sexy?" John demands.

"What?" Sherlock innocently asks.

John gives a long hard stare at the tinsel now wrapped around Sherlock's long, pale neck. The red makes his skin more pale. The thinness of the decoration makes his neck longer. John licks his lips.

"Just take it off," John says, turning away from Sherlock.

"You love Christmas," Sherlock says, following John and pulling the tinsel off.

"I do."

"Then why are you so flustered right now?"

"Because nobody on earth should make Christmas sexy."

Sherlock smirks. _Challenge accepted, _the detective thinks.

Two days later, he sets to work. The first thing he spots is a large bow. He sees it in a shop window while walking down the street, and later he finds the same bow at Tesco. He buys one, and a smaller one, then goes home.

When John arrives home, Sherlock appears busy wrapping gifts.

"What's this?" John asks.

"Just thought I'd help you out. I hope you don't mind," Sherlock says from a crouched position on the floor. Wrapping paper rolls are unrolled around him, bows are scattered about the floor.

"I don't mind. Thank you," John says.

Sherlock sits back on his heels and holds up the box he just wrapped. "Ta-da," he announces.

John looks down at him and his attention is quickly caught by a shiny red bow stuck to Sherlock. _Strategically _stuck to Sherlock. In the trouser region. "Ah-hem," John nods at the bow.

"Oh," Sherlock says, pulling it off his crotch.

John takes a deep breath and goes to the kitchen.

Sherlock smiles to himself.

The next day, Sherlock goes back to the shop to get that tinsel. _That can definitely come in handy_, he thinks.

The next day, Mrs. Hudson pops in to see Sherlock while John's at work. "Yoo-hoo," she announces her presence. "I've got something for you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looks up from his table. "Yes?"

Mrs. Hudson hands Sherlock a small bundle of mistletoe. "I picked this up for you. You and John are two little romantics, I tell you. Thought you could put it up somewhere."

Sherlock smiles at the plant in his hand. "Yes, I have great use for it, thank you."

Sherlock decides to hang it directly over his seat at the kitchen table, since that's where he is most of the time. When John arrives home, he heads straight for the tea kettle, which is right behind Sherlock.

"I didn't have the best day ever, I tell you," John rants. "Bloody awful patients. Horrible kids. Worse mothers. It's fucking cold out. I don't like it one bit."

"John," Sherlock says as John takes a break in his speech.

John looks at Sherlock sitting at the table. Sherlock looks at the mistletoe hanging on the ceiling. He takes hold of John's arm and tries to pull him close.

John tries to smile. "I'm not really in the mood, Sherlock. I just want my tea and I want quiet. I'm sorry. I don't feel in the mood to kiss you."

"Fine," Sherlock says. "Then _I'll_ just have to kiss _you_."

"Come on, Sherlock, let me—" before he even realizes, Sherlock's out of the chair and sticking his tongue into John's mouth. John's eyes roll in his head. He quickly joins the kiss and pulls Sherlock close. When they break away, John grins and his eyes look glossy. "Fine," he says, "You win."

A week later, Sherlock thinks it's time for his plan. John's been in an awful mood lately. His workload has been heavy and it's just been too cold for him to want to leave the flat. Not to mention Sherlock's had a case and he hasn't done much to help.

So Sherlock sets up. He starts by gathering his supplies and placing them on the bed. "Hmm," he thinks, staring at everything. Tinsel, a large bow, and holly. He ties the mistletoe to the end of a string of tinsel, then takes his shirt off. He wraps the long string around his neck like a scarf, and so the mistletoe is hanging where his belt sits.

Then, Sherlock takes off his trousers and pants. He grins as he thinks about how John will enjoy this.

He decides to text John:

**When will you be home? –SH**

Two minutes later, he gets a reply:

**About ten minutes. Why?**

He replies:

**Your gift has arrived. Hurry home. –SH**

His response:

**Oh dear.**

Sherlock smiles and tosses his phone to the bed. He continues 'John's gift' by wrapping tinsel randomly around his body. He hangs it around his arms, his torso, and his legs. He got the same deep red color that was at the shop, not only because of John's reaction, but it _was _the most festive.

When he's finished, he sits on the bed against the headboard. He grins as he grabs the large bow and places it right over his already half hard cock.

Then he thinks about the next part. There's really not a way for him to tie himself to his bed. Finally he settles on tying his hands together behind his back. _John will like this, _he thinks.

Two minutes after he finishes, he hears the door to 221B open and John begin to climb the stairs.

"Sherlock?" John calls from the entryway.

"In here!" Sherlock calls.

He hears John's footsteps walk down the hall, then he sees the doorknob turn and John enters.

"Oh…my…God…" John mutters.

"Merry Christmas," Sherlock says. "Well, early Christmas," he corrects.

"Oh…my…" John steps closer to the bed and takes the site in. Tinsel hanging all over Sherlock's pale skin. Mistletoe hanging just over…John licks his lips…just over Sherlock's cock. And directly over Sherlock's cock. Well, there's John's real gift. "Jesus, Sherlock…"

"Well?" Sherlock wiggles his hips. "Open it up."

John grins and climbs onto the bed next to Sherlock. He takes hold of Sherlock's chin and kisses him deeply before taking his clothes off and, well, _opening it up_.

_***This was about Christmas decorations and Couple 3 will be up tomorrow. Sorry! I've been away for a while but I'm back now and I'm going to try so hard to get a chapter out more often. Please, please give me topics! I'd love to write more! **_


	87. Chapter 87

**Couple 3**

They really don't do Christmas. They exchange gifts and have a mini-vacation around Christmas, but they don't decorate or really do anything else to do with Christmas.

A week before Christmas, Sebastian's sister calls him to ask him to pick her son, Logan, up from school. Sebastian happily agrees and takes the young man back to his and Jim's home.

Logan sits on the couch watching television while Sebastian online shops for Jim's gift.

"It probably won't come in on time," Logan mutters.

"Nonsense. It'll be here in a few days."

"Sienna ordered my dad something two weeks ago and it still hasn't arrived."

"What did she order him?"

"A new watch."

"Well," Sebastian tells the twelve-year-old, "If I want to get Jim a watch, I'll go to a shop and get one. Now help me think of something else."

After a while, Logan grows bored. "Your house is so…empty," he states.

Sebastian looks around. "What do you mean?"

"Well, our house is decorated and yours is just…boring."

"We don't really do that here," Sebastian explains.

"Why? You don't like it? I thought you liked last year when you helped Sienna decorate."

"Well, _I _did," Sebastian says. "Jim's not into it."

"Really? Even if you surprised him? People like surprises."

"Not your uncle."

"Well," Logan stands and goes to the kitchen. "I think it'd be nice."

Ten minutes later, Sebastian decides that maybe a new watch would be a good idea. He and Logan head out into the cold London evening and walk the streets until Sebastian finds one he likes.

As they're walking home, Logan pauses in front of a nicely decorated shop window. It's got bright lights, white tinsel, glitter practically everywhere, a white Christmas tree with large blue bulbs, and paper snow flakes hanging from the ceiling.

"Come on," Sebastian tries to pull the kid along.

"We should make your house look like this."

Sebastian looks at it for one whole minute. "No," he finally says, "Absolutely not."

"It's beautiful," Logan says.

"No. I said no. Didn't I say no? Now come on."

"Why not? It's amazing."

"The lights are too bright. The tree too white. The tinsel is just…awful. The snow flakes are so tacky. And I don't want blue balls anywhere near my home."

Logan ignores the last bit because he doesn't understand. "Did you feel your heart shrink three sizes? Because I did, Mr. Grinch."

"I just don't like it, ok? Now, let's go!"

"I think Uncle Jim would like it," Logan says once before he lets Sebastian drag him down the street.

Later that evening, while getting ready for bed, Sebastian gives Logan's suggestion some thought. "Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea," he says out loud with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. "Fuck it," he decides. "I'm doing it."

The next afternoon he picks Logan up from school again. Logan seemed to have at least a small bit of expertise (imagination), so Sebastian knows Logan can help.

"What should we get?" Sebastian asks in the cab.

"Uh, I don't know. How about a tree?"

"Yes. We can get a tree."

They find a shop that's selling real Christmas trees. He and Logan choose the best one and Sebastian pays extra for it to be delivered in two hours.

"Where is Uncle Jim anyway?"

"He had to go to America. He'll be back tomorrow."

"Right on time to see our surprise, then?"

"Yes, of course."

"I think he'll like it," Logan admits again.

Sebastian nods.

Next they buy decorations. They get the lights, the tinsel, garland, ornaments, and candy canes.

"Candy canes?" Sebastian questions.

"They're tasty and they look nice on a tree."

When they're finished, they arrive home with all of their things on time for their tree to arrive. Sebastian pays the delivery man extra to actually set the tree up in the sitting room while he and Logan unpack their things.

When the tree's up and the delivery man gone, they put the tinsel and garland on. Sebastian playfully wraps Logan in the tinsel and they laugh together. Once that's finished, they cover the tree in lights.

"Ready?" Sebastian asks, his hand hovering over the light switch that controls the tree lights.

Logan eagerly nods.

Sebastian switches the tree on and it lights up the whole room. Logan smiles wide and with excitement.

"I love it!" Logan exclaims.

Sebastian smiles and wraps an arm around his nephew.

Just then, his phone rings. "Oh, it's Jim," Sebastian answers, "Hello?" He talks to Jim for a few minutes about Logan, but he doesn't tell Jim about the decorations. Jim tells him he'll be home tomorrow evening, then they hang up.

"You didn't tell him," Logan says.

"No. I want to surprise him."

Sebastian and Logan continue with the tree. They hang ornaments and laugh some more; Sebastian has a great time with his nephew. When they finish, they both sit back on the couch satisfied until Logan announces he's hungry. They go out to dinner, and after Sebastian takes Logan home.

The next day, Jim phones Sebastian and tells Sebastian not to go to the airport, that he'll get a car home. Sebastian agrees, though he doesn't want to, and tells Jim he'll see him that evening.

Jim's flight was scheduled to be in at 6 PM, but Sebastian's up at 11 PM wondering where he is. Finally, he decides to call Jim.

"I just landed," Jim says instead of 'hello?'.

"Barely? I thought you were supposed to be home five hours ago."

"There was a storm, I was delayed," Jim shouts at someone off the line, "No, no, the other black one!" He re-addresses Sebastian. "I'm on my way," he says.

"Great. I'll see you soon."

Jim hangs up and Sebastian can tell he's irritated, very angry, so Sebastian stares at the tree trying to decide if he should throw it out or not. In the end, he decides not to because of how much work Logan put into it. He thought he'd at least let Jim see it.

Jim arrives home a bit over an hour later. He shouts at the lock as his key won't seem to work, so Sebastian gets up to open it.

"You wouldn't bloody believe my day," Jim starts as soon as he walks in. He drops his luggage by the door and pulls his coat off. Sebastian helps him out of it. "My flight was delayed because of…of…I don't even know! Then there was a storm. For hours! I was stuck at the airport, I couldn't even leave. It was awful! Then on the flight I was stuck next to a woman who snored and another woman who wouldn't stop staring at me, I don't know what her—" Jim's eyes lock on the tree. "What the bloody hell is that?"

"Oh, uh," Sebastian runs fingers through his own hair. "It's a Christmas tree. Logan and I decorated it," he nervously shifts his weight. "Look, I'll take it down tomorrow. I just…Logan put a lot into it and I wanted you to at least see it before I—"

"You and Logan did this?"

"Yeah. It was his idea. He thought our house was boring."

Jim instructs Sebastian to turn the tree lights on and Sebastian does. The whole room glows with the beautiful lights and Jim gets a good look at all of the ornaments. He finally steps back and stares at it from afar.

"I…I love it," he admits.

"You don't sound like you love it."

"I do. I really like it. It's very…bright."

"I feel like you're lying."

"I'm not, I promise!" Jim smiles. "I like it, ok? I really do. It's beautiful," he wraps his arms around Sebastian's neck. "Thank you."

Sebastian hugs him back. "I'm sorry you had a bad day."

"Mmmm," Jim squeezes Sebastian tighter. "It's getting better."


	88. Chapter 88

**Couple 1**

In November, Greg began doing research about this end of the world garbage. He lost interest in it very quickly, as it was completely absurd, but he was in awe that there are actually people who believed it. So it just became a joke.

"One month until the world ends, you know?" he asked Mycroft over breakfast one morning.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Greg shrugged. "Maybe. I guess I won't know until the twenty-first of December, right?"

Mycroft ignored him, purely because Mycroft thought it was stupid, but Greg kept saying things like that for an entire month.

Finally the day before the last day on earth came, and Greg wanted to celebrate.

"What should we do for our last day on earth?"

"Do as we always do," Mycroft says. "Go to work, do our jobs, come home, have a nice meal, then _do _whatever else comes along."

Greg smiles. "Why don't we stay home instead? Have some alone time?"

"That's what Sundays are for."

"But I want Sunday on Friday. Ok?"

"No," Mycroft protests. "I have work to do. I have meetings and things to do before everyone takes holiday for Christmas."

Greg frowns. "Do as you please, but I'm staying home on Friday."

On Friday, Mycroft wakes up to go to work while Greg stays in bed. When Mycroft is finished, Greg calls to him from the bedroom. "Last chance to stay home with me!"

Mycroft returns to the bedroom ready to leave. "I can't afford to stay home. I'll see you tonight."

Greg smiles as Mycroft kisses him goodbye, then he drifts to sleep for an hour.

Greg wakes up what seems like seconds later to a loud bang from the entry way. He recognizes that it's the front door before he has a chance to grab his gun and hop out of bed, so he relaxes a bit and sits up in bed. Right then, Mycroft walks through the door to their bedroom.

Mycroft pulls his suit jacket off and begins to work on his tie. "Damn you," he mutters.

Greg rubs sleep out of his eyes. "What?"

"For the past hour I've thought of nothing but you, here, in this warm bed, and…" Mycroft kneels on the bed next to Greg. He grabs Greg's face and kisses him.

"Oh," Greg sighs when Mycroft pulls away. "You missed me?"

Mycroft smiles. "I suppose I just wanted to enjoy my last day on earth with you."

"I knew you'd come to your senses."

Mycroft kisses Greg again, this time pulling him down onto the bed, and they enjoy their last day on earth after all.

**Couple 2**

"And how do you feel about this end of the world junk?" John asks Sherlock.

Sherlock snorts. "Absurd."

John smiles.

"And you?" Sherlock asks, too. "What do you think about it?"

"Well, it's supposed to happen in a week. So as long as I see The Hobbit before it does, then I'll be happy."

Sherlock gives John a look that says John is ridiculous. "The Hobbit, John? Really?"

"What? I've liked it since I was a kid. My mum read it to me when I was very young. I'm very much looking forward to this movie."

"It's just…fantasy. Nothing factual."

"Which is why it's good," John says.

"Oh god," Sherlock groans. "You're not going to drag me along, are you?"

"Who else am I going to go with? Movies are fun."

"Movies are boring."

Well, John ends up dragging Sherlock to see The Hobbit two days later, and Sherlock only agrees because there's nothing else going on, and mentions once that John's lucky that Bilbo is kind of cute or else he wouldn't bother.

So the week leading up to the end of the world goes by and each day John says, "This is our last Monday on earth," then "This is our last Tuesday on earth," and Sherlock's very tired of it. On Wednesday, John asks what they should do on their last day on earth.

"Let's get married," Sherlock says.

John stares at him. "What?"

"Let's get married on our last day on earth. If we survive, we're happily married, if we die, we'll die married."

"Sherlock, I don't actually think the world's going to end…"

"You don't want to marry me, John?"

"Well, I…I didn't…I mean…"

Sherlock grins from having flustered John so much. "I'm joking John, though I see where you stand on the subject, thank you."

John takes a deep breath. "I just…I mean…Sherlock, I…"

Sherlock smiles and kisses John. "I'm kidding."

John tries to smile, but it doesn't quite work. "I love you, though."

"I love you, too John."

For their last day on earth, Sherlock ends up getting "the case of a lifetime" as he calls it. It's a huge case that takes him from Spain to Dubai to France, back to England, and he solves it, of course. John tells him he's brilliant and once Sherlock is finished, and in celebrating that the world didn't end, Sherlock takes John to see The Hobbit again.

**Couple 3**

"What do you want to do about the end of the world?"

This time it's Jim who is obsessed with the end of the world. Sebastian thinks it's stupid, of course. He generally thinks anything Jim is interested in is stupid, but since this really is stupid, Sebastian is genuine when he says so.

"You're an idiot."

"Come on, Seb. We could die on Friday."

"We're not going to die and you're an idiot."

Jim sits on the sofa next to Sebastian. "What if we do die, huh? What then?"

"We won't be around the next day to know 'what then'."

"Good point," Jim agrees. They sit silently for a minute, then Jim says, "We should live up our last day on earth."

Sebastian laughs. "Since when have you ever lived anything up?"

"I'm just saying," Jim says. "Something needs to be done."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Oh, oh! Let's shoot someone."

"We shoot people all the time."

"Let's shoot someone good. Like…like…like that annoying barista who always gets my orders wrong."

Sebastian frowns. "Hey, I like him."

"Because he likes you!"

"So?"

Jim rolls his eyes. "How about we just kidnap him, then?"

"You're such an idiot."

Jim stands and heads for the door. "You have two days to think of something better, or else I kidnap him."

"Where are you going now?"

"To get supplies!"

Friday rolls around and they get called for a case. They do get to shoot someone, so they set up in a high office building and wait.

"I wanted to enjoy my Friday," Sebastian says.

"This isn't enjoyable?"

"No. You're distracting me, it's annoying."

"I'm not even talking!"

"Your presence is distracting."

Jim rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous. I'm just sitting here and you are complaining for no reason."

A few minutes later, Jim silently examines his fingernails while Sebastian stares down the scope of his gun.

"Stop it," Sebastian says.

Jim throws his hands in the air. "Stop what?!"

"You're breathing too loud!"

"I'm hardly breathing at all!"

"Just shut up, ok!?"

Jim stands. "What is your problem?!"

Sebastian sighs. "What if the world really does end?"

Jim cracks a smile. "You're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot? You're the one—"

Sebastian is cut off by a kiss from Jim. When they part, Jim says, "Now finish this up so we can enjoy our last few hours on earth."

Sebastian laughs. "Yes, sir."

_***Someone said to write their reactions to the end of the world and here we are. It's really dumb I'm sorry. : ) **_


	89. Chapter 89

**Couple 1 & 2**

Let's just start by saying that Mycroft has partied on New Years Eve exactly once in his life. He was seventeen years old, it was just after his first semester at university, and he really wanted to fit in. He'd had alcohol before, starting with the occasional glass of wine Mummy let him have at special dinners, all to drinking a couple of time while away at school. All the kids did it, and Mycroft wanted to, too.

Well, the night ended with one too many drinks and he woke the next afternoon back at home on the sitting room sofa with a ten year old Sherlock staring at him.

"Oooh," Mycoft mumbled. "What time is it?"

"One in the afternoon."

Mycroft grabbed his throbbing head. Sherlock lifted a wastebasket towards him. "What's this for?" Mycroft asked.

"Mummy said you might need it," Sherlock said. "Mummy also said I'm allowed to practice my violin in here as long as I want."

"Fine, whatever. Go away."

Sherlock lowered the wastebasket and picked up his violin. He stepped towards the window, not far away from Mycroft, and began playing his violin. Scratchy notes began sailing around the room, causing Mycroft to grab his head in agony.

"What in God's name is wrong with your violin?!" he shouted at Sherlock.

"Nothing, Mother bought me a new one this morning."

Sherlock began playing again and Mycroft shouted at him to leave.

"Mother said—"

"Sod what Mother said, get out!"

"But—"

Mycroft threw a pillow at Sherlock, so Sherlock quickly fled the room to tell Mummy. Mycroft threw himself back on the sofa and buried his aching head in his arms.

Mycroft claims that to be the _worst_ experience in his life, after throwing up twice in Mummy's favorite flower pot _then _the kitchen sink, and having the worst headache _ever_, he vowed never, ever, _ever _to drink on New Years Eve ever again.

Some promises are meant to be broken, right?

Which is why now, Mycroft is sitting in John and Sherlock's flat while Greg tries to convince him to go out tomorrow night.

"Come on. We're young, attractive men. Well, we're not getting any younger, at least. What's the worst that could happen tomorrow?"

"No, Greg. I vowed to never drink on New Years Eve ever again."

"Why?"

"Well, when I was seventeen, I let the lads at school take me out on New Years Eve. Somehow, I ended up all the way back at my mother's and _someone_ decided he needed to tune his new violin next to my head."

Sherlock looks shocked. "You were drunk?"

"I was hungover, you idiot."

Sherlock's expression doesn't change. John laughs. "You ok, love?"

Sherlock nods.

"Come on," Greg continues. "Please? It'll be fun."

"Definitely not."

"John," Greg gets John's attention. "What are you two doing tomorrow evening?"

"Well, assuming there isn't going to be a case," John thinks, "I'm not sure. Sherlock hates going out, of course, but I'd quite like to go somewhere."

"The pub? Tomorrow? You and I?"

"I'd quite like that, Greg."

Greg glances at Mycroft.

"Nope, still not going."

John glances at Sherlock, who still looks in a state of shock. "And you, love?"

"So," Sherlock begins, "All of those times Mummy made me study for hours on end because she had a headache, or when she was sick—"

"Yes, Sherlock, she was hungover," Mycroft bluntly states.

John grabs his hand. "Are you ok?"

Sherlock nods, but doesn't join the conversation. He silently thinks all of that over.

"Anyway, John, you and me tomorrow out on the town. If Mycroft stops being a baby, perhaps he'll go, too."

"I can tell you right now that you will not change my mind."

"Well, you know I'll need someone to kiss at midnight. And, John, if you're the one around—"

"Stop!" Mycroft shouts. "I'll go, fine."

John glances at Sherlock. "Well, I'll still be all alone. And who know who will be there? Maybe that handsome new guy from forensics—"

"What?!" Sherlock immediately snaps out of his trance.

John smiles. "So you'll accompany us to the pub tomorrow?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and waves a hand.

The next evening, the four men head out for their New Years Eve celebration. They find the only empty table in the place around 9 o'clock and order a round of pints. John and Greg happily drink, but the Holmes brothers stare at their cups like it's on fire.

"Come on, drink up!" Greg says.

Sherlock glares at his cup. "I don't believe I've ever had the desire to drink anything that wasn't wine."

John pushes Sherlock's cup towards him. "Just taste it."

Sherlock takes his cup, so Mycroft follows and both men finish before Greg and John.

"See? Something new isn't so bad," John says.

"Could we get something else? Whiskey, vodka, anything?" Sherlock asks.

John and Greg glance at each other and exchange a sly smile.

"Sure," Greg says, standing, "I'll get it."

He returns with more beers and shots, and by 10:30 their table has got a whole bottle of whiskey for the four of them.

"This is fun," Sherlock says.

John giggles at his husband. "Quite," he says.

Half an hour later, the Holmes men are drunken slurs of happiness.

"Thith really ith great," Sherlock says. "Let'th do thith again tomorrow night."

"Yes, let's do this every day!" Mycroft shouts.

John and Greg, both less drunk, shush their men and laugh.

"I'm glad you don't have to go to work tomorrow," Greg says, wrapping an arm around Mycroft.

John leaves the table for a few minutes fetching four glasses of water. "Drink up, boys," he says, placing the tray of waters on the table, "We need to slow it down a bit."

"Nonsense!" Mycroft shouts, still taking his water.

Finally, a few minutes to midnight, everyone in the pub begin grabbing their loved one to kiss at midnight.

"Are you going to kith me, John?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes, of course!"

"Good. I'd quite like that, I think."

John laughs. "I'd hope you would."

Then, everyone in the pub begins to count down. Sherlock shouts the loudest, so Mycroft tries to shush him, but finally Greg gets Mycroft's attention by grabbing his shirt collar.

"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!" the whole place shouts.

Sherlock immediately grabs John's face and sticks his tongue in John's mouth. John's startled, but in seconds his eyes close and he kisses Sherlock back.

Greg uses Mycroft's collar as leverage and pulls Mycroft towards him. He kisses Mycroft slowly, their kiss never gets as heated as John and Sherlock's. They share many small, sweet kisses.

"I love you," Greg whispers.

"I love you, too."

Ten minutes after the New Year arrives, both couples head home. They're close to Baker Street, so John and Sherlock are home and asleep within half an hour, but Greg and Mycroft's ride takes forever and Mycroft falls asleep in the car. Greg carries him upstairs and drops him into the bed, then flops down next to him and instantly falls asleep.

The next morning, John wakes up without a hangover, but Sherlock wakes up with a terrible headache. John makes him pancakes and Sherlock picks at them with an angry face.

Greg and Mycroft both wake up with hangovers and have to function together in pain. They fight and grumble at each other, but they just end up in bed asleep again.

This time, three of the four men vow to never go out on New Years Eve ever again.

Well, until next year.

**Couple 3**

They really are boring people. They never were before, of course. When they were alone they'd go out, drink, pick someone up; but now that they're together they want nothing to do with anything out there in London. Maybe it's because they're older now, usually Sebastian goes with that. But they do both know that there isn't much out there unless they're together.

So New Years is coming up and they both just kind of forget about it. Of course they don't really celebrate Christmas, so the whole holiday season is kind of a blur, and New Years always comes and goes without even really noticing the fireworks outside.

Tonight is no different. They really don't want to go out or celebrate or do _anything_. But Jim does send Sebastian out for dinner.

Sebastian's out at the Chinese place down the street, waiting in lines of a million people for his order. He called down forty-five minutes ago, so he's very annoyed that there are so. many. _people. _

"Hey!" Sebastian hears somewhere behind him. It's a girl, she sounds like a young girl, so Sebastian doesn't turn around like most people would when they hear 'Hey!'. But she does it again, and this time taps his shoulder.

Sebastian hastily turns around to two girls staring at him. "Yes?"

"Do you, like, have any plans tonight? I'm Lindsay, this is Ashley." Both girls give a flirtatious smile.

Sebastian half-smiles. "I, uh, yeah I kind of have plans."

"We're just looking for somewhere to go, and we don't really know anybody in London," Lindsay smiles wide at him. "We were thinking you and your friends might be able to show us around?"

Sebastian smiles. "I really have other plans, sorry."

"Could you let us know where to go?"

Just then, Sebastian's turn in line comes, so he tells the girls to go basically anywhere and they'll find a celebration, then he takes his food and leaves.

On his way out of the restaurant, Sebastian gets a text from Jim that says, "BRING WINE." So he finds the next liquor store and goes in.

Sebastian's wandering around the shop trying to find the specific wine, and inwardly ranting to himself because _damnit, Jim doesn't need that exact fucking kind of wine, why can't he ever be happy with whatever I buy? Nothing I ever get is good eno_— Sebastian doesn't even notice the other person in the isle until he literally runs into the man.

"Oh, sorry," Sebastian says, stumbling away.

"It's not a problem," the man says.

Sebastian looks at him. _Well, hello. _

"What are you shopping for?" the handsome man asks.

Jim holds up his bottle of wine. "Oh, just a very, very specific bottle of wine."

"Plans for an exciting evening, then?"

"Uh," Sebastian kind of thinks that over. "Not really. You?"

"I'm shopping alone for a bottle of wine," the man says, "I've got probably as many plans as you."

Sebastian laughs. "Yeah, it's going to be a lively evening." Sebastian holds his hand out, "I'm Sebastian."

The man shakes his hand. "Jim," he says.

Sebastian stops and checks his watch. He's been gone for a very, very long time. "Shit," he says, remembering that he has his Jim's food. "Oh, I have to go."

"Oh, uh, ok…" the man says. "See you around."

Sebastian smiles back, then goes to the register to leave the store.

Sebastian arrives home minutes later and drops the food on the table. Jim steps behind Sebastian and practically drapes his entire body over Sebastian's back, resting his chin on Sebastian's shoulder.

"I've changed my mind," he says.

Sebastian stares at a point somewhere off in the distance. "What?"

"I want Italian."

Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to kill you."

Jim sighs. "I suppose this will do."

Sebastian lifts his takeout container and holds it up so Jim can take it.

Jim kisses the nape of Sebastian's neck and takes his food. "This will do," he softly says and leaves the kitchen.

They open the bottle of wine and silently drink their food while watching the Doctor Who Christmas Special. Neither are really paying attention, they only recorded it because Logan wasn't going to be able to see it and Sienna doesn't have a recorder. And with nothing else on television that evening, they just figured why not?

"More wine, dear?" Sebastian asks, pouring himself a third glass.

Jim nods.

They continue their evening in silence.

Around 11:30 they retire to bed, even though Sebastian's not tired. He lays awake watching television with Jim draped around him. Jim's head is resting where his arm meets his torso, each of his breathes tickle Jim's armpit.

Ten seconds to midnight, Sebastian flips to the news channel where they are showing celebrations from all over the world. Right now they're showing their very own London celebrations, so Sebastian watches and in seconds the television shows the fireworks he can hear.

Sebastian wiggles down the bed so he's laying face to face with Jim. He slightly tilts Jim's head up and kisses him lightly.

"Hmm?" Jim sighs himself awake.

"Happy New Year," Sebastian whispers.

"Mmm," Jim mutters, then kisses Sebastian again.

And suddenly New Years isn't that boring after all.

_***Yes I know it's January 5**__**th**__** and not even New Years anymore but I've been writing this for like days and never had a chance to finish, so here you go. Happy New Year! **_


	90. Chapter 90

**Couple 1**

Dance lessons were one of the many things the Holmes boys had to endure as children. This along with polo rather than football, and reading rather than seeing films, is something the boys had to learn to love and be good at. Mummy always said nobody was going to be impressed at a fancy party if they couldn't dance, so the boys became very, very good.

Once a week each starting at the age of six, the two boys attended ballet classes and pair dancing. Over the years they learned to foxtrot, waltz, tango, salsa, swing dance, and many other random dances that the boys knew they'd never, ever use. But no less than young perfectionists, the boys got fantastic; Mycroft got good by years of practice before Sherlock began and Sherlock by practicing outside of classes with his already trained older brother.

Rhythm is something Greg really doesn't have. He can't cook, he can't sing, and he definitely can't dance.

This surprises Mycroft. Greg has a gorgeous body and Mycroft thought with _those hips, _but Greg really sucks at it.

It's two months before their wedding reception, the one they've been waiting months to have. They got married in February and decided to wait until the next December to have their reception because they wanted Greg's daughters to be there.

So it's October and they're preparing for their party. The venue has been booked, the invitations sent, next week they're picking a cake, and today they are beginning dance lessons.

"I don't need dance lessons," Greg complains the whole way to the lesson.

Mycroft doesn't say anything, he just listens and nods.

When they get to the lessons, they meet the other couples and the teacher. Then it comes time to start and they both say, "I'll lead," at the same time. Mycroft thinks it over and figures it might be easier for Greg to learn if he's leading, so Mycroft places a hand on Greg's shoulder.

"That's right, I get to lead," Greg gloats.

Mycroft rolls his eyes and the music begins.

For an hour, _an hour, _Greg terribly leads, steps on Mycroft's toes, and complains that it's everybody else's fault.

"Oh my god!" Mycroft finally shouts. He takes Greg's hand off his hip and places it on his own shoulder, then takes the lead. "Music!" he calls out, then leads Greg in rhythmic circles around the room.

Greg looks astonished as Mycroft never breaks eye contact and looks as poised as ever.

Then the song ends, they let go of each other and everyone in the room claps, including the teacher.

Greg looks at Mycroft with a very confused expression.

"I was trained to dance," Mycroft states.

"Of course you were," Greg says. He shakes his head and mutters, "Show off," in a joking manner before going to get a glass of water.

Over the course of the next two months, Greg really focuses all of his energy into keeping up with Mycroft. He doesn't end up as good as Mycroft, but he does do well.

By the time their reception comes, Greg is ready to show off his new moves and is very, very glad they take lessons when he sees John and Sherlock. Of course Sherlock is fantastic, and John slightly less, but he knows had he not taken lessons, he'd look ridiculous.

**Couple 2**

"Going under cover is fun," said John never. Until now.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Because you get to drink and dance and have fun."

John nudges his shoulder. "You're having fun, you big baby."

Sherlock huffs when John picks up his drink. "Can you at least quit drinking? We've got to go to the next place and nobody's going to want to dance with you if you're drunk."

"But I am sexy, so anyone would be happy to dance with me," John says. He leans over and rests his chin on Sherlock's elbow, then looks up at the detective with puppy-dog eyes.

Sherlock stares down at him, wants to lean over and kiss him. "You're about to blow our cover."

John pulls away and takes another drink. "'Two blokes out on the town' is not a good cover."

A girl across the bar eyes John. "It's working, isn't it?" Sherlock asks, nodding to the girl.

John looks over at her and smiles. "I suppose," he mutters, then quickly turns back to Sherlock, kisses him, and hops off the bar stool.

"John!" Sherlock shouts, following John out of the club. "You just blew our cover!"

"Great, on to the next place, then!"

They go to another club where they get drinks and make small talk like friends.

"Ok, who do I need to dance with?" John asks.

Sherlock looks around for the next suspect. He points to the woman. "Her, over there. The brunette."

"Mmm," John hums.

"What?"

"She's great."

"Shut up."

John leans close to Sherlock. "Brunettes are hot," he mutters.

Sherlock cracks a grin. "Go dance with her before I change my mind."

John chuckles. "The darker the brown hair, the hotter," he says, finally leaving Sherlock and going to the woman.

John approaches her with charm on his face. He asks her to dance, then leads her to the dancefloor.

"I'm John," he says.

"Jessica," she replies, letting John pull her into his arms to dance.

It's not the type of club where people bump and grind and practically have sex on the dancefloor, lucky for John –who thinks he's far too old for that— it's a club that plays many types of music. Right now the song is at a medium pace, so John leads Jessica slowly while twirling her and showing off some of his moves.

Sherlock watches from the bar. He didn't want to look strange sitting there alone, so he begins talking to a woman who was there alone, too.

"Your friend found someone?" Sherlock's woman asks.

This gives Sherlock an excuse to check on John. He sees John pull the girl tight and whisper in her ear. "Oh, yes. He was eager to come out after he's just broken up with his…girlfriend."

"Poor guy," the woman says. "Looks like he's bouncing back."

Sherlock inwardly huffs. "Yes, it does."

Sherlock and his woman, Nancy, talk for a while until she convinces him to dance. Sherlock lets her pull him onto the dance floor and he immediately begins showing off how talented he is.

"And you almost let me miss out on this?" she jokes as they sway to the music.

"I don't dance often," he admits. Playing a part of someone non-Sherlockish, Sherlock explains, "When I was younger, my brother and I took dance lessons. We had to, I don't know why."

"To learn how to please a woman," she jokes again.

Sherlock chuckles. "That must have been it," he says.

Sherlock and Nancy chat while they dance and Sherlock keeps an eye on John, who has spotted Sherlock across the dance floor and looks stunned for a moment, then a bit angry, then stares right at Sherlock as he whispers in Jessica's ear. Sherlock feels his cheeks grow hot before he tears his eyes away from John and redirects his attention to Nancy.

After a very, very short while, their dancing turns into a competition of who can 'please' their woman more. Who can make her laugh, impress her, who can be the better man. Both women enjoy the man's charm even though they have no idea there's a silent banter going on between the boyfriends.

John and Jessica progressively get closer and closer until at one point, she kisses his cheek.

"You're so sweet," she says to John.

He blushes and says thank you, and silently prays Sherlock didn't see that.

But oh boy, did he.

When Jessica kisses John, Sherlock's hand reflexively squeezes Nancy's hand.

"Ow!" she shouts as she's startled and in slight pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

Nancy smiles anyway and forgives him.

A few minutes later, John says something particularly kind to Jessica and she pushes her fingers into the hair on the back of his neck, pulls him close, and kisses him. It's not a deep kiss, it's a peck that lasts about three seconds.

_Oh hell no, _Sherlock thinks, catching the whole thing. "I'm sorry," he mutters to Nancy, then stomps away and out of the club.

John sees Sherlock leave, so he says he's sorry to Jessica and follows Sherlock.

Sherlock's already down the street by the time John gets outside. "Sherlock!" he calls, "Sherlock, stop!"

Sherlock doesn't stop, he keeps walking away as fast as he can. He takes his phone out and calls Lestrade. He tells Lestrade that the woman who committed the murder was Jessica Monroe, the woman John was dancing with, and doesn't break his pace down the street. Lestrade asks if he's ok, as they'd been monitoring the security cameras in the whole place, but Sherlock hangs up instead of answers.

"Sherlock, please stop!" John commands.

Sherlock instantly stops as if it was an order.

John walks to Sherlock, then steps around him so they're face to face. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. I didn't mean to—I didn't—she just—"

"I saw John. I saw you being yourself, I saw you whispering in her ear, I saw her kiss you _twice__**.**_"

"Then you saw that I didn't kiss her, Sherlock! She kissed me!"

Sherlock frowns and takes a deep breath. "I didn't like it, John."

"I know, baby," John presses his body against Sherlock's and wraps an arm around Sherlock's waist. "I'm so sorry." He presses his face into Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck. "Why are you so…"

"I'm just a good dancer," John says.

Sherlock huffs. "Right, John."

John kisses Sherlock's neck, then looks at the taller man while smiling. "Come on," he says, grabbing Sherlock's hand and walking down the street. "I'll show you how good I am at moving these hips."

Sherlock grins. "That sounds like an adequate apology."

John hums and kisses Sherlock's hand.

Of course later Sherlock thanks John in his help in catching the murderer, but only after John really apologizes for letting her kiss him.

**Couple 3 **_***warning for sexytimes***_

Last week, a fellow criminal came to Jim and wanted his ex-partner to be killed because he thought the ex-partner would sell him to the police. Jim agreed and found that the man is a bartender at a well-known gay bar, so Jim decided they needed to go undercover.

"This really isn't necessary," Sebastian says while slipping on the ridiculous pair of jeans Jim bought him. "These are too tight!"

Jim glances at Sebastian's arse in those snug blue jeans. "They're fine," he mutters. He shakes his head and looks away before he begins drooling. "We need to fit in."

"We need to conform to a stereotype that shouldn't exist," Sebastian says, "And that is that gay men wear bloody ridiculous clothing and go to gay bars all glammed up." He pulls a black t-shirt on and stares at himself in front of the mirror.

"Nobody goes to a bar wearing a suit, ok? We need to track this guy, and that begins at the bar," Jim pulls his button up shirt over his shoulders and turns back to look at Sebastian again. "Oh my god," he mutters.

Sebastian eyes him through the mirror. "What?"

Jim stands right behind Sebastian and places his hands on Sebastian's shoulders. "You look so hot," he whispers.

Sebastian smirks. "This gets you going, huh? Me dressing like a twenty year old?"

Jim doesn't even deny it, he nods and begins mouthing at the parts of Sebastian's neck he can reach. Sebastian lets his head roll back as Jim reaches a certain part of his neck and begins to suck there.

"What time do we need to be at the bar?" Sebastian asks.

Jim lets his hands trail down Sebastian's body until he reaches around Sebastian and rubs the bulge in his jeans. "The bartender gets off at midnight; we need to be there any time before that."

Sebastian grins as Jim unzips his jeans. "Perfect," he whispers, then turns around and takes Jim in his arms. He walks Jim back and pushes him onto the bed, then falls over him and grinds his hips down.

They get off with a few eager hand jobs and decide they'll take it further later that night. After they're both satisfied and re-dressed, they leave for the bar.

They spot right the bartender quick and get a few drinks.

Sebastian watches all of the bodies on the dancefloor pressed together and decides he wants to be out there with Jim, so he pulls Jim off the bar stool and pulls him to the dancefloor.

"What are we doing?" Jim demands.

Sebastian presses close to him, the entirety of their bodies touching, places a hand on Jim's arse, then sways against him to the rhythm of the music. "Blending in," he answers.

Jim doesn't fight it, he lets Sebastian fondle him on the dancefloor.

After an hour of dancing (you know—bumping and grinding) they match every man on the dancefloor as sweaty, hot messes of arousal and need.

"What time is it?" Sebastian asks, continuing to move to the bumping music while grinding against Jim.

"11:35," Jim pants.

Sebastian groans. "I need to get out of here," he says through clenched teeth.

Jim discreetly sucks on Sebastian's sweat slick neck. "Me too," he says.

"Fuck," Sebastian groans, "You're so hot…ugh…" Sebastian grabs Jim's hips and turns Jim around so his back is pressed to Sebastian's front. Sebastian grinds against Jim and moans. "I need to get out of here," he whispers in Jim's ear.

Jim locates the restroom, then pulls Sebastian through the crowd. "We have to be quick," he whispers as he pushes Sebastian into a stall.

Sebastian immediately attacks Jim's lips in a deep kiss while tugging on Jim's zipper. He pulls Jim free and strokes him eagerly while panting a moaning in Jim's ear.

Jim pulls Sebastian free and mimics his actions, eagerly tugging on Sebastian and stealing kisses between deep breaths.

Jim comes before Sebastian does, and right as Sebastian is about to come, Jim drops to his knees to swallow Sebastian's mess. Sebastian digs his fingers into Jim's hair and tugs as he comes, biting his lip to stifle his moans.

They clean each other up, then exit the bathroom not even ten minutes after they enter. The men outside the bathroom door eye both of them in a seductive way, but both Sebastian and Jim ignore them and take post at the bar.

At midnight they follow the bartender to his home and make the kill. It's quick and easy because both men are so eager to get home and out of their clothes, which they do.

And they don't dance again. In public at least.

_*****_**Silver **_**requested dancing and though really I'm not very specific on the dancing Mormor would be super sexy dancers. Thanks for sparking nice thoughts ; ) **_


	91. Chapter 91

**Couple 1**

"There's no way around this?" Greg cautiously asks the already edgy driver.

"Mister Lestrade, I already said five minutes ago—"

Greg cuts him off. "Yes, yes, I heard you," he mutters, then throws himself back against the car seat. He pulls on the knot in his tie and stares out the window.

Mycroft doesn't take his eyes off his mobile. "Relax, Greg, we'll make it."

"You telling me to relax is actually quite funny. Shouldn't I be the one—"

"I'm not, in your words, 'freaking out', right now. We will make it."

Greg kind of sits up and tries to look out the windshield. "What's going on up there anyway?"

"A very bad car wreck. At least two people were dead on impact, and one is in critical condition."

Greg eyes Mycroft. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything."

The driver chuckles.

A few minutes of silence pass.

"Any idea how long we'll be stuck here?" Greg wants to know.

"Could be up to an hour."

Greg sighs and falls against the seat once more.

More silence passes.

Mycroft takes a deep breath and turns a bit towards Greg, but doesn't put his phone down. "Maybe it's a good time for us to talk, Greg."

Greg eyes Mycroft again. "Talk? About what?"

"Our relationship."

The driver glances in his rearview mirror and begins rolling the blockade up between the seats.

"No, no!" Greg groans at the driver. "I don't want to have any sort of discussion in a car."

"We're stuck here, why not?"

"I could get out and run. I could beat you to dinner."

"I could break up with you and not have to have this discussion at all."

Greg frowns and turns to Mycroft. Mycroft puts his mobile in his pocket.

"Fine. What do we need to talk about?"

"Christmas is coming up."

"Yes?"

"And my mother is hosting her annual Christmas party and requests your presence."

"Wait…you want me to meet your mother?"

"And her entire family. At Christmas."

"I…uhm…"

"If you don't want to, I understand."

"What would happen if I don't want to?"

"You don't want to?"

"No, I didn't say that," Greg thinks that over. "I'm just wondering what would happen between us if I didn't."

"Personally, I would feel as though the progress we've made in our relationship has taken a setback, however I do understand that my family could be a lot to take in."

"Your mother is hard to meet?"

"My mother is a wonderful woman, Greg. You would be lucky to know her."

Greg smiles at that. "Ok then."

"Ok?"

"I'll go to your family's Christmas party."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to RSVP this evening. Are you positive?"

"Yes, I am positive."

Mycroft smiles. "Perfect."

Greg leans across the seat and kisses Mycroft. When he pulls away, he checks his watch. It's been twenty minutes and they haven't moved an inch. "We're going to miss our reservation," Greg says.

"That's too bad," Mycroft replies, pulling his phone out again.

"Let's just walk."

Mycroft glances out the window. "It's just begun raining."

Greg lifts the umbrella resting between them. He taps the blockade until the driver rolls it down once again.

"Yes, Mister Lestrade?"

"We're going to walk from here, thank you Charles."

"Very good, sir."

Greg slips out of the car before Mycroft can argue. They continue down the street in the light rain.

**Couple 2**

"I bloody hate traffic," John angrily mutters.

"It's not as though I'm fond of it either, John. You can stop being so angry with _me_. It's not my fault everyone in England is trying to leave London."

John snorts at that. "It is your fault that you are one of those people."

"It's not my fault that my mother wanted us a day early for Christmas."

"THAT IS BLOODY WELL YOUR FAULT," John shouts. "Why are we driving anyway? I don't want to be stuck in the damn passenger seat for three hours."

"John. You're sweary when you're flustered."

"I'm sweary when I'm stuck in a fucking car forever."

"At least we're together," Sherlock says in an unusual act of sweetness towards John.

John looks at him. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I just hate car rides." John grabs Sherlock left hand, which is resting on the center consol, and kisses it.

Sherlock smiles.

"Say, I know!" John exclaims. "Let's play a game."

Sherlock looks confused. "A game?"

"Yeah, a car game. How about yellow car?"

"Yellow car?"

"Yeah. Say you see a yellow car? Well, then you say 'Yellow car!', and you get one point."

"Why would you—"

A yellow car drives by and John cuts him off, "Yellow car!"

Sherlock turns his head to see the car, but it's gone before he can look. "Liar."

"I did not lie!"

Sherlock grins. "I don't believe you."

John laughs. "Ok. Now we'll wait for another."

Five minutes later, Sherlock shouts, "Yellow car!"

"Where?!"

"You missed it."

"Liar!"

Sherlock smiles. "I did not lie."

John mimics Sherlock, "I don't believe you."

They both laugh. They're silent for a few minutes, then John says, "We can play more games while we play yellow car."

"Like what?"

"Well, there's the license plate game. Or word games—"

"Word games?"

"Yeah, like…ok there's one that's like a picnic, right? So I say I'm going to picnic and I'm going to take an apple. So now you have to take something that starts with a B."

"Well where will this picnic be? What would the weather be like? How many people are going to—"

"Does any of that matter?"

"Yes, of course. If it's a picnic in the middle of the summer, I might not take bonbons because they may melt—"

"Why would bonbons be the first thing you even think of?"

"They're delicious, John."

"Why can't you think of something normal like bananas?"

"You're already taking a fruit."

John sighs and rolls his eyes. "Forget it, let's think of another game."

"No, I quite like this one. I just need more information before I choose a food—"

"It's not a real fucking picnic, Sherlock!"

Sherlock waits a minute or two before he says, "You're flustered again."

"You think?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath. Again, he waits a few minutes before he says, "I'm sorry."

John glances at him. "I'm sorry, ok? I just—"

"You hate cars, I know."

John takes Sherlock's hand again. "We can keep playing, ok? Let's just assume the picnic will be in August, ok?"

"Where?"

John sighs. "Why?"

"Is it going to be at the park? I have to account for bugs, John."

"Yes, fine. At the park. There is a chance of rain. It is warm."

"Who will be in attendance?"

"Why does that bloody matter?!"

"Mycroft is limited on sweets, John!"

John glares at Sherlock for a full five seconds before his face breaks into a grin, then he chuckles, and that turns into a full laugh. Sherlock joins in after a second.

"You think far too much, love," John says.

"I want to play right, John."

"Fine," John says while still laughing. "Uhm, I'll be there, you, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly, Stamford, Anders—"

"NO BLOODY ANDERSON."

John laughs. "I was joking, love. The list ends at Stamford."

Sherlock laughs back. "Ok, now we can play."

"Ok. Apples," John repeats himself.

Sherlock grins and says, "Bananas."

John laughs. "You are a ridiculous man," he says. He thinks it over for a minute and says, "Carrot cake. Mycroft can only have a taste."

Sherlock laughs. "Deviled eggs."

John makes a face. "Those are awful."

"This isn't a real picnic, John," Sherlock seriously says.

John smiles and rubs his face. "You just like to rile me up."

"I do love sweary John."

John laughs. "Ok, crazy man. How about Earl Grey tea?"

They get all the way through the alphabet an hour later, long since they've began moving through traffic once more. They laugh a lot and argue about answers, mostly when Sherlock's J would be 'John' and John claims Sherlock can't bring him to the picnic. They finish the game happily.

"What other games do you have?" Sherlock wants to know.

"Well, there's the trip game. It works the same except you go places to places."

"So, I could go to Aksu, China?"

"And I can go to Badin, Pakistan."

Sherlock smiles at John. "I quite like this, John."

"Me too, love."

**Couple 3**

"Did we really need to drive somewhere that could take us fifteen minutes to walk?"

"I finally broke down and bought a car, Jim. I've never owned my own vehicle. I've wanted one since I was about twelve, when I, as a matter of fact, stole one. So yes, we really needed to drive."

Jim pushes his head harder against the window.

"Don't dirty the glass, Jim. I literally just bought this."

Jim stares right at Sebastian, licks his palm, and rubs it down his passenger window. Sebastian watches him, and since they're stopped dead in traffic, he attacks Jim with both hands and randomly hits Jim all over his arms. Jim pushes him back and in a second, the car behind them honks their horn. Sebastian pulls away and sits back in his seat, straightening his tie as he does so.

"I hate you," Sebastian mutters.

"I'm not fond of you either."

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

"This wouldn't be so bad if we weren't stuck in traffic," Jim says.

"London is a busy city, ok?"

"That's not my problem. We could have been there by now."

"And that's not _my _problem."

It's silent again.

"We could talk," Sebastian says.

Jim frowns. "About what?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Anything. How was your day?"

"It was fine. How was yours?"

"Same. It was fine."

Jim nods in understanding and both men fall silent once again.

They move one block in the silence. Finally Sebastian asks, "What did you do today?"

Jim thinks about it. "Uhm, well I met with a client this morning. When I got home, you were gone, so I took another shower and had lunch. And I waited for you. That's all."

"What do you do while I'm gone?"

Jim shrugs. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sebastian sounds surprised. "You can't do _nothing_."

"I don't really do anything. I'm not that interested in telly. Sometimes I check worldly news online. Other than that I don't do much."

Sebastian shakes his head in disbelief. "That's strange."

"I just don't have much to do if you're not home."

"What did you do before you met me?"

Jim shrugs. "Nothing."

Sebastian chuckles. "You are very strange, my love."

Jim half smiles at the diminutive. "I don't live a very exciting life without you."

Sebastian glances at him. "I know. I'm your only entertainment."

Jim smiles fully this time. "I know this."

Finally traffic moves and Sebastian begins driving. "I'm sorry we _had to _bring my car."

"It's alright, it didn't turn out all bad."

Sebastian playfully grabs Jim's chin and shakes his head. He makes a voice adults make to kids, "It's because we together, isn't it?"

Jim yanks his head away and tries not to smile. "Shut up, idiot."

"I love you too," Sebastian says, putting his hands on the wheel and driving down the street.

_***Today I wrote stuck in traffic and I hope you all like it. I didn't know what else to write! But tomorrow (the 30**__**th**__**) is the one year anniversary of this story thread! Yay! So if anyone has any prompts, I really want a good one for tomorrow. **_


	92. Chapter 92

_***Thanks everyone for reading this for a year. Or for giving me enough inspiration to keep going! I know the story is off sometimes and my whole timeline may be crazy, but sometimes I just forget. Anyway I hope you enjoy this one. It's about their one year wedding anniversary, which I don't think I've done. I hope not. So thank you! I want to get to 100. So I hope I get to. **_

**Couple 1**

Many years ago, Greg's one year wedding anniversary was complete shit. Honestly, the wedding itself wasn't very great (it rained at an outdoor wedding), the one year anniversary was terrible, so Greg should have known then that the marriage itself was just going to be awful. But of course, two horrible events weren't enough for him to leave his wife.

Now his second one year anniversary is around the corner and Greg is very nervous. Understandably. The first time it was bad and the marriage didn't last, Greg desperately wants this one to work out.

He's been trying to make reservations for weeks, but everywhere in London is booked on their anniversary. So far, Greg is having no such luck making this anniversary good. He just really wants it all to work out.

Greg voices his concerns with John one afternoon.

"Why don't you just tell Mycroft to make a reservation? You know he could, right?" John asks.

"I really want it to be a surprise."

"It's his anniversary. I don't think it'd be very shocking."

Greg sighs. "I doubt he's even going to remember."

John looks at Greg. "He wouldn't?"

Greg shakes his head. "I doubt it. He hasn't said anything about it. It's in a week."

"Maybe he's surprising you."

"I doubt it."

"Mmm," John sighs. "You just need to talk to him about it."

Greg nods and gets on with his work.

Later that night he decides to ask Mycroft about their anniversary plans.

"Did you even remember that our one year anniversary is next week?"

Mycroft pauses before answering, then he says, "Of course I did."

"You did not."

"Maybe I didn't, but now I know. What are our plans?"

"Well, that's the thing. I can't get reservations anywhere."

Mycroft smirks. "Let me take care of it."

The next day Greg rants to John about how Mycroft didn't remember, just like he said.

"Sorry, Greg. What are your plans, then?" John asks.

"He said he'd take care of reservations."

"See? I told you he could."

"Yeah. Hopefully it all works out."

John pats Greg's shoulder and leaves to help Sherlock.

That night, Mycroft informs Greg that he can't get reservations anywhere.

"You're kidding?" Greg demands.

Mycroft shakes his head. "Afraid not, my dear. I could only get reservations for the day after at—"

"The day after?!"

Mycroft nods and decides to remain quiet.

"That's just great," Greg says. "This completely sucks. What are we going to do now?"

Mycroft shrugs. "Do you want me to take the reservation?"

Greg waves a hand and heads for their bedroom. "I don't care. Go ahead."

Mycroft makes the reservations and for the next few days, Greg acts out of sorts and moody towards the whole idea.

On the night of their anniversary, Greg really wants to work late. He doesn't want to go home and order some usual Wednesday night take away, so he takes his time. However, guilt sinks in and he thinks he _should _be home with his husband, so he only stays half an hour late.

When he gets home, the lights are out and he assumes Mycroft isn't even home.

"Fucking great," Greg mutters as he enters the flat. He roughly pulls his coat off and hangs it, then toes off his shoes and pulls at his tie.

The entire flat is dark, so Greg walks over to the other side of the sitting room, the entrance near the kitchen, and turns the light on. That's when he sees Mycroft standing in the kitchen waiting for him.

"Jesus fucking bloody Christ!" Greg shouts in fear. He's so shocked that he doubles over and tries to catch his breath. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Mycroft states.

"Leaving all the lights off and hiding in the kitchen? Of course you'd scare me."

"That wasn't my intention, I'm sorry," Mycroft pats Greg's back.

"It's fine, I'm sorry," Greg stands up and leans on Mycroft.

"You're late," Mycroft states. "We'll have to reheat everything."

Greg looks confused. "What?"

Mycroft walks over to the oven and pulls out a pan of Greg's favorite lasagna. "It's from your favorite place," Mycroft says.

"They delivered?"

"Well, in a way…" Mycroft trails off as the actual chef to the restaurant walks into the room.

Greg looks even more confused.

"I couldn't get us in, so I brought them to us."

Greg rubs his eyes in disbelief. "You didn't."

"I did."

Greg begins to chuckle, still in complete disbelief. "When did you arrange all of this?"

"A few weeks ago."

Greg quickly swivels his head to Mycroft. "What?!"

Mycroft smirks. "You thought I'd forget."

"I was absolutely positive you would forget."

Mycroft smiles. "I didn't forget."

Greg suddenly attacks Mycroft in a hug. A really, very tight hug. "Oh god, I love you so much."

Mycroft squeezes him back as well as he can. "I love you too, Greg. I very much do."

Greg smiles and pulls back a bit to kiss Mycroft. They share two light pecks before breaking apart and sitting for their meal. Which is fantastic. The night does not end a complete waste as Greg had feared.

**Couple 2**

Sherlock and John sit in bed one evening reading in silence. They're comfortable in the silence, until Sherlock says, "You remember that our anniversary is in a few days, right?"

John doesn't look away from his book. "I wasn't aware you would remember."

"Of course I remember. It was a great day for me."

"Well, for me too, Sherlock. I just didn't know if you would. You've got a lot on your mind."

Sherlock nods. "Fair. Anyway, I was wondering what you would like to do?" Sherlock closes his laptop and puts it on the nightstand, then turns off his lamp and lays in the bed. He turns over to face John.

As soon as Sherlock is settled, John closes his book and shuts off his lamp, then lays facing Sherlock. "What do you want to do?" he asks.

Sherlock tucks his hands under his head to get in a comfortable sleeping position. "We could do anything. We could even go somewhere."

John wraps his arm around Sherlock's waist and scoots as close to Sherlock as possible. Their noses nearly touch. "Go somewhere? Is that something you'd like to do?"

"I wouldn't mind. It could be a second honeymoon."

"A second honeymoon, huh? Well, I can't say no to that, can I?"

Sherlock smiles. "We'll leave Saturday."

John nods. "Where to?"

Sherlock kisses John. "Anywhere. You choose."

John kisses Sherlock back. "Paris," he says between kisses. "The most romantic city."

Sherlock pulls his arms from under his head and wraps them around John, then pulls John to him. "I'd love that."

John rolls onto Sherlock. He smiles and kisses Sherlock.

Of course that's not what happens. Of course they get a case early the next morning. And it's tough. Sherlock eagerly gets to work while John frowns about the whole thing.

He was really looking forward to taking a vacation, but of course that was all too good to be true. But he can't change what Sherlock wants. He can't tell Sherlock to turn down the case. He certainly can't get Sherlock to turn down the case to go to Paris of all places.

So John helps Sherlock through the case and the night before their anniversary, the case isn't even close to over. Lestrade feels bad that Sherlock is helping him instead of celebrating with John, but John reassures him that it's fine and goes home to go to bed.

The next morning, John wakes to the smell of blueberries. He vaguely remembers Sherlock sleeping next to him last night, so he's confused as to what's going on. He slowly gets out of bed and leaves their bedroom.

"Sherlock?" he wonders out loud.

"Hmm?" Sherlock replies, standing in front of the stove.

"What are you doing?" John asks.

Sherlock turns around holding a spatula. "I'm making breakfast."

"But…" John shakes his head. "Did you solve the—"

Sherlock holds a hand up to stop John before he finishes. "Don't mention it right now. I temporarily deleted the information about it so that we could enjoy this morning. Lestrade will call me this afternoon and I'll get back to work."

John rubs sleep out of his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Six AM."

John shakes his head. "You are a mad man, you know that? How did you temporarily delete it?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I can't really explain it. I just can't remember any details, but this afternoon Lestrade will restore my memory and I can go on. But," Sherlock wraps his arms around John. "I wanted to enjoy the morning."

John wraps his arms around Sherlock. "I appreciate this, Sherlock. I really do."

"I'm glad. I even made you pancakes."

John chuckles and lets Sherlock go, then steps in front of the stove to examine the perfect looking pancakes. "They look and smell delicious, love."

Sherlock stands behind John and pushes his nose into the hairs on the back of John's head. "You do, too." He sniffs John and begins running his hands over any part of John he can reach.

John digs his fingers into Sherlock's hair and feels Sherlock attach to the side of his neck. John's eyes roll back and his head lolls to the side, allowing Sherlock more access. Then, with a devilish grin, John lets Sherlock go and redirects his attention to the pancakes. "Come on, can't let these go to waste."

Sherlock smiles and lets go, then serves John his pancakes.

After breakfast, and sex, and a snack, and sex again, Sherlock goes back to Lestrade's office to restore his memory. He didn't delete the morning he had, of course, so it gives Sherlock incentive to work harder, so he gets the case solved that night. He gets back to John right before their anniversary ends.

**Couple 3 will come tomorrow. Sorry guys! I have to work early! Thanks for reading! **


	93. Chapter 93

**Couple 3**

They definitely agreed to absolutely not do their one year anniversary. They both agreed it is a complete waste of time. They both agreed it's for people who don't think their marriages with last. They both agreed it'd be a waste of money, anyway. They both agreed they've been together long enough that they don't need to celebrate anniversaries anymore. They both agreed it was dumb.

They're both damn liars.

Sebastian is _married._ Before Jim he never thought he'd even be in a real relationship ever, and now he is married, ring on his finger and all, and he is happy to be. Sebastian has a husband, a really damn hot husband if you really want to ask him, and he is proud of that fact. So he wants to celebrate.

Part of Jim assumes Sebastian will want to celebrate, so he gets in the mood to celebrate for that reason. The other part of Jim feels the same way Sebastian does. This whole marriage thing? This whole waking up next to someone who agreed to do the same thing with you day in and day out for the rest of your lives? This whole 'til death do us part stuff? Well Jim loves that.

And each man loves his man. So they celebrate.

Sebastian really just wants a regular night. Maybe a nice dinner, maybe take some dessert home, maybe eat if off each other. You know? Like in the movies when people are as happy as he is. That's what he wants. Just him and his hubby in the most expensive restaurant in London where everyone can see.

Jim, however, wants a quiet night in. He wants Sebastian to cook his favorite meal, he wants to light a few candles, and he wants to 'accidentally' forget about dessert and eat it after they have anniversary sex. Just him and his hubby in the privacy of their home.

This starts a fight, of course. When they can't agree on something it becomes a fight. The day before their anniversary, Sebastian confirms the reservation he made weeks ago and Jim actually does the shopping to pick up all the ingredients Sebastian needs to cook. And that's where the fight starts.

"I told you I'm not cooking on my anniversary," Sebastian complains first.

"It's my anniversary too and this is what I want. Consider it my gift."

"I already got you a gift."

"Seb," Jim looks right at him, "I can only take so many more occasions to receive a new watch."

"I never know what else to get!"

Jim rolls his eyes. "Ok. Well, this is what I want."

Sebastian crosses his arms. "No."

"No?" Jim looks shocked. "You never say no."

"I always say no and I'm saying no now. No."

"Fine," Jim says as Sebastian is almost out the door. "I can say no, too, you know?"

Sebastian stops. "Really? Going to withhold sex because I don't want to cook?"

"Yup," Jim nods. He walks around Sebastian to stand right in front of him, his face right in front of Sebastian's. "And I was so looking forward to giving you your gift."

Sebastian's nostrils flare in frustration. "Fine."

Jim grins and goes back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

They don't talk much the rest of the night. They do kiss goodnight once, but that's all.

The next morning, they get a call very early for a last minute meeting and both reluctantly get out of bed to go. It's all the way across town and it's cold, and neither are very happy about it.

"I want this done tonight," the client says.

"Well, tonight doesn't really work for us. See it's our—"

"I'll pay you double. Triple. Just get this done tonight and you can name your price."

Jim and Sebastian look at each other for a minute. Finally, Sebastian takes a deep breath and nods, and Jim agrees.

"I'm sorry, love," Jim says as they walk down the street.

"Either of our plans were far too good to be true anyway," Sebastian says, wrapping an arm around Jim's.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Sebastian's still very disappointed and a bit angry. "It's fine."

Jim frowns and kisses Sebastian's cheek.

That night, they set up in front of the office building of the man they've been hired to kill. Sebastian sets up his gun and waits while Jim sits against the wall next to him and stays as quiet as possible, knowing that Sebastian is still upset.

"You can talk," Sebastian says, "He isn't even in yet."

"I don't want to bother you."

Sebastian sighs and looks at Jim. "It's fine," he says. Jim's expression doesn't change, so Sebastian grabs his chin and gives him a quick peck on the lips. "We'll just postpone, ok?"

Jim nods. "I'll take you to any restaurant you wish."

"I'm sure you will," Sebastian says.

Twenty minutes later, the guy finally arrives and Sebastian focuses to get ready. The guy is usually in and out of the office quick, so he really tries to set up the best shot. In four minutes the guy is shot and killed.

"Got it?" Jim asks.

"Yep," Sebastian replies.

Sebastian packs his things and gets ready to leave.

"Are you hungry?" Jim asks.

Sebastian shrugs. "I guess. I don't really feel like going anywhere. I just want to go home."

Jim smiles. "I know just the place."

Five minutes later they arrive at the nearest McDonald's. They don't eat fast food like this often, so Sebastian is pretty excited to eat something that he hopes will make him feel less sad about ruining his anniversary.

When they get their food, they sit at the table near the back. Jim gets a hot fry between his teeth and holds it out for Sebastian to bite the other side. Sebastian does, and their lips meet for a quick kiss. Sebastian blushes because of how cheesy it was.

"Happy Anniversary, Seb," Jim says.

Sebastian continues to laugh at the fry bit. "Happy Anniversary, Jim."

_***Short and cheesy! Sorry it wasn't up sooner. **_

_** *So I'm writing a Teen!Mystrade AU. It's pretty much just fluff and there's nothing complex about it. I just wanted to, I guess. So I'm wondering if I should post it? I know I have like a thousand stories going and stuff but I'm really really into this Mystrade one right now. I'm on the fifth chapter now. And also if anyone would like to beta it for me, I'd love that. So hit me up with a PM. You guys rock! **_


	94. Chapter 94

**Couple 1**

They obviously don't have their own children. It's not really anything they ever talked about, it was just something they knew would never happen. They have Greg's daughters, and they're fine with keeping them when they get to.

Sometimes Greg thinks about it, though. Having a baby with Mycroft. He loves Mycroft and sometimes he just wants someone they can love together, you know? Someone who can love them together at the same time. Someone to depend on them. A baby for them to raise together.

And Greg loves babies. They're small and round and soft and they have big goofy smiles and he just loves them.

Greg gets in these moods where he just really wants a baby. He sees them everywhere; in line a Tesco, at restaurants, he sees them everywhere.

One day he and Mycroft are waiting in line buying groceries when a young mother walks up behind them. She has a little baby bouncing on her hip and another little boy old enough to walk. Greg turns around and smiles at them.

When he turns around, he feels the little boy pull his coat. Greg turns back at them.

"I'm so sorry," the mother says, grabbing her little boy's hand. "No, no, son. What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?"

The boy looks down and watches his feet wiggle.

"I'm sorry," the mother says. "He's very curious about everything."

Greg smiles. "That's ok."

"You two have kids?" she asks.

By now, Mycroft turns around to join conversation.

"No, we don't. Well, I do, but my ex wife has custody."

"Oh? How many?"

"Two girls. My oldest is almost a teenager."

"My my, you're going to have your hands full, then," she jokes, "More than these two little guys."

Greg smiles at the boys. "How old are they?"

"This one's Noah, he just turned one," she says, "And this one is Gregory, he's four."

Greg smiles wide. "Gregory? That's my name, too!"

Little Gregory looks up at him. "Really? How old are _you_?" he excitedly asks.

Greg laughs. "I'm far older than four."

Mycroft and Greg's turn in line comes, and right after they leave.

As they're walking down the street, Greg turns to Mycroft and says, "I want one, Mycroft."

Mycroft almost pauses. "We've discussed this, Greg."

"I know, I know. But sometimes I think it'd be nice to have a baby."

Mycroft sighs. "I don't feel the same way about babies that you do."

"That's the beauty of being gay, Mycroft."

Mycroft looks incredibly confused. "What do you mean?"

"We get to _adopt. _We wouldn't have to get a baby, we could get a toddler, we could adopt a teenager."

"I still don't—"

"I know, love. I know. And that's ok." Greg leans over and kisses Mycroft's cheek.

They continue down the street in silence until Greg says, "It'd be nice to have a boy, though."

"Would it?"

"Yeah. I mean, we've already got two girls. A boy would be interesting."

"How?"

"Well, he'd probably just be into different things than my girls. My girls take dance lessons. With a boy, we'd be going to football games and things like that."

"I don't know, Greg. I wasn't one for sport. He could take after me and want to study."

"Are you implying that I never studied, Mycroft? Are you calling me dumb?"

Mycroft chuckles, knowing Greg is joking. "I didn't mean that!"

"I know, I know. He could, though. He could do anything. Maybe he'd play the piano like you."

"No, I think I'd want him to learn violin."

"Dear lord. Only if he practices on the roof."

Mycroft laughs. "Deal. And how would you make him dress?"

"He can dress however he wants, but no offense, I wouldn't want my four-year-old running around the school yard in a tie."

Mycroft laughs again. "Alright. No ties until boarding school."

"Boarding school?!" Greg turns to Mycroft. "No way. I want him home with us."

"Well how else is he going to get a quality education?"

"Go to public school here! That's what I did."

Mycroft is not convinced. "My point exactly."

"Hey," Greg pokes Mycroft's arm. "Lots of jests about my brain tonight."

Mycroft smiles. "I only want the best for our son."

"As do I, but I want to be there for him. I want to see him every day and kiss him goodnight."

By now, they arrive at their building and head inside to the elevator.

"It would be better for him to learn how to be away from us while he's young."

"Wait, wait," Greg pauses, "Didn't you go to school in the city?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"It's settled then. He's staying with us."

The elevator stops and they get out and walk down the hall to their door.

"What should we name him?" Greg asks.

"Hmm," Mycroft thinks that over. "I don't know."

"We could name him after your brother," Greg jokes.

Mycroft glares.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

Mycroft cracks a smile.

"How about we name him something, like, strong? Something like...Captain Kirk."

"We would not name him Captain Kirk, Greg."

Greg laughs. "Ok. How about Spock?"

Mycroft shakes his head.

"Fine, fine. You win."

Mycroft walks over to Greg while he's unpacking the groceries and takes Greg into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Greg."

"Don't be. I understand."

Mycroft pulls away and gives Greg a quick kiss. "I love your daughters, but I'm afraid that for me, having a child would just be—"

Greg stops him by kissing him again. "It's ok. Really. We are happy and that's what matters to me."

Mycroft nods. "I love you," he says.

"I love you, too."

They resume their dinner, and after that they don't really talk about kids again.

**Couple 2**

"Thank God we don't have a kid," John says, picking up Sherlock's dirty clothes from the sitting room floor. "I couldn't raise two babies."

Sherlock glares from his spot on the sofa. "Very funny, John. You're the one that was so hell bent on getting me out of the clothes."

John swats him with his discarded pair of pants. "I expected you to pick them up after, you baby."

Sherlock kicks at John.

"It might be easier living with a child. At least my daughter would pick up her things if I told her to."

"Yes, military father would definitely come out of you. Why don't you just order me around?"

"Because you get off on military John."

"Mmm," Sherlock practically purrs. "I most definitely do."

John grins and takes Sherlock's bundle of clothes to the bathroom hamper. He comes back and takes a seat under Sherlock's feet.

"Why do we always have a daughter?" Sherlock asks.

John looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Every time you make that joke, we have a daughter."

"Oh," John shrugs. "I don't know. We just do."

"John, I really don't think you'd know how to raise a daughter."

John looks at Sherlock. "Hey! I'm sure I could."

"They have long hair, John. And menstrual cycles. And those dumb ass boys they make nowadays. You couldn't handle it."

"I have a sister, Sherlock. I'm a doctor. And something tells me you'd be more upset about 'those dumb ass boys'."

"No, no, doctor. You would say, 'I was a dumb ass teenage boy once, Daughter, so I know what they want!'."

"You wouldn't be concerned?"

"My daughter would be smart enough to see that those boys are dumb."

"She may be born with your stubbornness, love. She may not listen to us."

"She would. She'd be very smart. And very funny, I imagine she'd get your sense of humor."

"Mmm," John says, laying down so his head is on Sherlock's chest. "And beautiful with your brown locks and light eyes."

Sherlock runs his fingers through John's hair. "Or with your sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes."

John lifts his head and rests his chin on Sherlock's chest. "I'd want her to be smart like you."

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck and John rests his head down again. "You're the smartest person I know, John. And I'd want her to be kind and caring."

"Well," John says, "I guess we'll never have to worry about it, will we?"

Sherlock frowns. "I'm sorry, John."

John looks at Sherlock and leans up to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, John."

John smiles and lays on Sherlock's chest again. "Let's see what's on tonight, shall we?"

Sherlock groans. "Tedious."

"Have you got a better idea?"

"I have one in mind," Sherlock says, shimmying down the sofa so he's completely under John.

"Yes," John says, "This is better."

**Couple 3**

Sebastian's never wanted kids. Even before he met Jim he was sure he'd never have a family. Then he met Jim and all worked out so perfectly that Jim didn't want any either.

But Sebastian wonders far too often why, if he didn't want kids, he gets stuck with his nephew this often. He gets Logan for everything. He picks him up from school, he takes him where he needs to go, and right now he has Logan because he got suspended from school and his father is out of the country.

"So what'd you do?" Sebastian asks.

Logan's thirteen now and he's kind of rebellious. So he mumbles, "I got in a fight."

"Ahh," Sebastian says. "I had many fights in my day."

"Are you going to punish me?"

"No," Sebastian says. "That's not my job. You're just here because Sienna's a bit upset and she doesn't know how to handle it."

"That's why you're cool," Logan says. "You're not mad."

Sebastian chuckles. "I'm just less angry than your parents are."

"Well, it's cool. I wish you were my dad."

Sebastian looks at Logan and puts the piece of the gun he's cleaning down. "You want to know what I'd be doing if I was your dad? If I had a son who got suspended for fighting?"

Logan nods.

"Well, if it was self defense I'd be at the school right now fighting it because my kid shouldn't be punished for self defense. But if it wasn't self defense, like you, my son would be out with his daddy Jim right now doing anything Jim tells him."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Logan says.

"Jim would probably make him do community service or something."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because my son would need to know that what he did was wrong. That fighting won't be tolerated. I was in many fights when I was young, and instead of a real punishment like that, my dad would just…well, let's just say he'd really punish me. And that's why I joined the military. I was angry at everything. I'd want my son to learn so that he wouldn't repeat it, so that I wouldn't have to be angry."

"Oh," Logan mutters.

"Would you rather be here with me or would you rather be out picking up trash around Regent's park."

"I'd rather be here."

"Good," Sebastian says. "There'd better not be a next time or else I will ask Sienna if I could initiate punishment."

Logan nods. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not."

Logan nods again and sits back against the sofa. He watches whatever is on the television and finally asks, "Why don't you have kids?"

Sebastian doesn't hear him at first, he's busy cleaning his gun. "What?"

"Why don't you and Uncle Jim have any kids?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I don't know. I've never wanted to have any."

"Ever?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "No. I don't think Jim and I would be very good at it, either."

"You were good at taking care of me."

Sebastian laughs. "It was easy to take care of you because we got to give you back at the end of the day."

"But it was fun. Remember the time we had the water fight all over the flat?"

Sebastian laughs again. "Yes. Jim was quite angry when the carpet was still wet the next day."

Logan laughs. "It was fun, though."

They're silent for quite a while until Logan asks, "Would you want a boy or a girl?"

Sebastian takes his time thinking that over. "Well, it'd be fun to have a boy because boys are just…they're more fun, but I really wouldn't want a son like me. And I'm afraid he would be. And I think it'd be difficult to have a girl because they're just…insane. But I did help raise Sienna, so I would be able to take care of a girl. I don't know."

"I think you guys would have a girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can imagine her being stubborn and fighting with Uncle Jim a lot."

Sebastian laughs. "Yeah, his daughter would be stubborn."

"I think it'd be cool to have a sibling," Logan says. "It'd be cool to have a brother."

"Yeah? I wouldn't know."

Logan laughs. "Do you like having a sister?"

"Of course," Sebastian says. "I love my sister. She's my family."

"Wow," Logan says, "That's weird. She's my family, too."

Sebastian looks at him very confused. "I know, dude. _You're_ my family, too."

"I know. But it's weird. Your sister is my mum."

"Yes. Glad that you figured that out," Sebastian jokes, patting Logan's knee.

Logan laughs. "It's just weird to me."

"Ok, dude."

After a few minutes of silence, Logan says, "I think you should have a baby."

Sebastian just nods.

Later that evening, Jim and Sebastian are washing dishes after dinner when Sebastian says, "Logan thinks we should have kids."

Jim chuckles. "Why do you always have groundbreaking relationship discussions with Logan?"

Sebastian looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"A few years ago, it was, 'Logan thinks we should get married,' and now it's 'Logan thinks we should have kids.'."

"Oh," Sebastian says. "I don't know. He just asks a lot of questions."

Jim hands Sebastian his plate. "And why does Logan think that?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I don't know. He asked why we don't, and I said we don't want any. And he just said we should."

Jim nods. "Did you agree?"

"You know I don't," Sebastian says.

Jim nods again and goes back to the table. The look on his face is one that Sebastian's never see.

"Why?" Sebastian asks. "Do you?"

Jim shrugs.

"You do?"

Jim shrugs again.

"When did this happen?"

Jim shrugs.

Sebastian sighs. "We are not having a baby so you can teach it evil things."

Jim laughs. "No, that's not it."

Sebastian takes Jim's hand and leads him to the table. They sit and Sebastian says, "Come on, talk to me."

"I don't know, Seb. Sometimes I just…do. I get lonely when you're gone, and sometimes I just want someone here."

"So play with the dog, Jim."

Jim laughs. "It's not that. Sometimes I just want someone that's…us."

"You know, biologically that won't happen."

"You arse," Jim laughs again, "That's not what I mean. It would be us."

"I know," Sebastian says. "And I'm sorry, Jim. But I just don't want that."

"I know. And it's not often that I do. It's just…every few months."

Sebastian nods. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Would you leave me because I don't want that?"

"Never," Jim says. "I don't want it that bad."

Jim smiles. "Ok. Well, I love you, and you're enough for me."

Sebastian stands to finish the dishes and kisses Jim before he's up.

Jim smiles. "I love you too," he mutters.

_***This is them talking about having kids. They were all supposed to be like the Mystrade one, but I guess that didn't work. Hope you enjoy! Oh, go check out my new fic about Teen!Mystrade called **_**Being 16. **_**You'll like it! **_


	95. Chapter 95

**Couple 1**

"This bathroom is really too small," Greg complains as Mycroft hogs the mirror. "I can't shave blind."

"There's another bathroom."

Greg pauses. "This is _my _bathroom."

"Mmm," Mycroft mutters, "It was mine first."

Greg glares through the mirror. "If you're going to keep saying that, then maybe I will go use the other bathroom. And, you know? That was your bed, too, so I'll sleep in the spare room from now on. Do you have another kitchen or am I still allowed to use that?"

Mycroft sarcastically shrugs. "I've had your cooking, I'd rather you didn't use it, either."

Greg turns his entire body to stare at Mycroft. "Are you fucking kidding?"

Mycroft stares back. "Yes. I'm kidding. Unless that was a rhetorical question, then I don't understand."

Greg takes a deep breath and turns back to the mirror. He finishes shaving and rinses his face, and as he's leaving the room he says, "You don't have to be such an arse."

"I wasn't even _doing _anything!" Mycroft shouts after he exits the small room.

To be honest, this entire fight began when Greg was young and he had to share a bedroom with his step brother. He learned then that he doesn't room well with others. His wife was a terrible flatmate because she kept shagging people at their house, and Greg thought living with Mycroft would be amazing. But Mycroft never had to share space with anyone, so he still isn't doing well living with Greg, and it's been two years.

Finally, Mycroft is just fed up. They had to expand the closet, they have to share a bathroom, and now the flat built for one is too small for two grown men. So Mycroft sends his assistant to search for suitable flats, one substantially larger with _two _sinks and _two _closets, and enough space for both of them, plus Greg's two daughters. Bart goes out and finds five flats Mycroft would approve of, so Mycroft takes the files to Greg.

When Mycroft gets home, Greg is sitting at the kitchen table filling out his bills. Mycroft tosses the files onto the table, making Greg flinch.

"These are flats I'm agreeing to move to. Pick one and I'll buy it."

Greg looks incredibly confused. "What?"

"We need to move."

Greg picks up one of the files. "I agree, but you can't just spring this on me."

"I avoided any question about it. The _exact _flats are the ones I agree to move into, and all you need to do is choose one. I've avoided any argument."

Greg thinks that over. It is a simple solution. "And what if I don't like any of these?"

"Then the guest bathroom is all yours."

Greg frowns. Mycroft kisses his cheek and leaves the room to change out of his work attire.

Greg looks over all of the files. They really are perfect flats. They're new, large, and a suitable distance away from work. The only problem is that Mycroft cut out all the parts of the files that said the price ranges.

"Mycroft!" Greg calls through the house as he stands from the table. "I can't find the prices on these flats."

Mycroft's sitting on the sofa watching television. "Just pick one, Gregory."

Greg's eyebrows raise. "_Gregory_? Damn," he flops onto the sofa with his files. "You really want to move, don't you?"

"I want my space back," Mycroft says. "I love you, but I really don't feel like watching you shave anymore."

Greg nods. "Ok, alright. I'll pick one."

The next day, Greg takes the files to John so John can help.

"Damn," John mutters as he looks through each file. "I ended up with the wrong Holmes."

Greg swats his arm. "Shut up. Help me choose."

"Ok. Which one do you like best?"

"Honestly, I'm just trying to figure out which is cheapest."

John continues looking through them. "Why are you trying to choose the cheapest?"

"I feel bad about spending Mycroft's money."

"I thought the whole point of moving in together is to share things. It's your money, too."

"The point of this is so that he doesn't have to watch me shave."

John laughs. "Does he shave? I've never seen Sherlock shave, so I'm just wondering if they don't have facial hair."

Greg wonders if John knows Sherlock is adopted. "Uhm, yeah, Mycroft shaves."

John nods. "Alright. Well, I like this one. But I have the sudden feeling like you should be talking about these things with Mycroft."

"I guess you're right," Greg says, then takes the files from John.

Greg goes home later that evening with the files and the one he likes best on top.

"Have you chosen a new flat?" Mycroft asks instead of a greeting.

"Let's talk about it, alright? I like this one," Greg takes the one he likes and tosses the rest on the table. "But I think we should talk about this."

"What about it?"

"Well, this is the first and probably the one home we're going to buy together, Mycroft. That matters to me."

"Why?"

"Because we are married. And married people do things together, ok? Look this one over."

"I've looked at all of them."

"Please, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighs and takes the file. He smiles as soon as he opens it.

"What?"

"This is the one I liked best."

Greg smiles. "Is it? Well, good. You don't mind that the double sinks are connected?"

"I still want to see you, Greg. I just don't want to be in the same frame, alright?"

Greg nods. "And the closet? Is it big enough?"

Mycroft chuckles. "Yes, I believe this is large enough."

"Alright. Well," Greg looks at Mycroft. "Is this it?"

Mycroft nods. "I do believe so, my dear."

Greg smiles wide. He takes Mycroft is a tight hug and kisses him deeply. "I guess we'd better start packing," Greg says as he pulls away.

"Where should we start?"

Greg smirks. "The bed."

Mycroft smiles. "Exactly what I was thinking."

**Couple 3**

"Let's move."

Sebastian frowns. "I like this flat!"

"I'm bored!"

"Take up a damn hobby, then! Don't make me move again!"

They move a lot. Sebastian really hates it, but sometimes Jim gets so bored that a change is needed before he begins to self destruct. Sebastian usually accommodates quickly, but this time it'll take a fight.

"I like this one!" Sebastian pouts.

"Please, Seb. I'll let you pick this time, I promise."

"No!"

"I'll do anything. I'll buy you a new gun. I'll buy you a new suit."

"I don't want to!"

Jim sits on the sofa next to Sebastian. "Please."

Sebastian purposefully doesn't look at Jim.

Jim pouts. "Please."

Sebastian glances at Jim for less than a second. "No."

Jim gets way into Sebastian's personal space. "_Please._"

Sebastian doesn't look at Jim again.

Jim kisses Sebastian's neck. Sebastian lifts his chin to allow Jim more access. "Please," Jim whispers as he licks Sebastian's pulse point.

Sebastian closes his eyes. He really doesn't want to move again. He really doesn't want to have to pack and unpack, and just looking for a flat is impossible, and— "Fucking fine. But I get to choose it this time."

Jim smiles. "Great. I have a few lined up already that you can take a look at tomorrow." He stands to leave the sitting room.

"Damnit Jim, you said I can choose!"

"You can! Just choose from one that I've already chosen."

Sebastian grunts in frustration and follows Jim to bed.

The next day, Sebastian goes to look at the first flat. This one is amazing. It's large, but only slightly larger than the one they already live in. The master bedroom is substantially larger, which Sebastian likes, because the closets are bigger and the bathroom is huge. He likes it, but he wants to see the others before he chooses.

The day after that, he takes Logan with him to look at another one.

"Why are you moving?" Logan questions.

"I don't know. Jim just wants to move."

Logan nods. "I like this one."

"The flat I saw yesterday was good, too."

"If you get a new flat, can I have my own room?"

Sebastian stares at him. "Why would you need your own room at my house?"

"Because…I want one."

"I want to stay in the current flat, but I'm not getting to. So, no, you don't get a room."

Logan frowns. "Fine. But I like this flat."

Sebastian agrees.

On the third day, Sebastian and Jim both look at the final flat.

"Is this your first time buying?" the realtor asks.

"Yes," they both say at the same time.

They walk through the flat, and both of them love it. The bathroom is a perfect size, the closets are perfect, the whole thing is perfect.

"Is this one suitable, honey?" Sebastian playfully asks in front of the realtor.

She smiles. "Have you got kids?"

Sebastian and Jim both say no at the same time.

"Well, it's roomy enough to start a family in."

The men glance at each other.

"I like it, love," Sebastian says. "She said it's big enough to start a family."

Jim wants to laugh, but he doesn't. "I like it, too. What do you think?"

"Let's do it."

Jim smiles and kisses Sebastian.

The realtor smiles. "Perfect. I'll get the paperwork."

The men stand alone in the kitchen while the realtor goes down to her car to get the paperwork.

"I really do like this one," Sebastian says.

"Me too. I'm excited to move in."

Sebastian sighs. "I hate the process of moving. You're lucky I love you."

Jim smiles. "You're lucky I love you, too, or else I wouldn't have chosen three for you to pick from. I'd have made you narrow it down. It's taken weeks."

"Why don't you consult with me on things like this? That's what married people do, they talk things over."

"At least I included you! At least I didn't say, 'Hey Sebby, pack your shit, we're moving!'."

"Like last time?"

Jim goes quiet and nods.

Sebastian sighs again. "Ok. Fine. I'll deal with it."

Jim wraps his arms around Sebastian. "You're the best."

Sebastian hugs Jim back. "I know."

They move into the new flat two weeks later, and even though Sebastian is really angry about it, he does it because Jim wants to.

_***So this was the couples moving to a new flat prompted by **_**TheFalling **_**(thanks!). Johnlock doesn't get to move because of course I couldn't take them out of 221B. Maybe some other time they'll, like, redecorate or something. Thanks for reading! **_


	96. Chapter 96

**Couple 1**

"Gregory Lestrade, get your body back inside this window before you catch a cold."

Greg turns his head to look back in and smiles at his partner still laying in the bed. He looks back out the window and sticks his tongue out to catch a snowflake on his tongue. The flakes fall rapidly, sticking to Greg everywhere including his hair and eyelashes.

"Gregory," Mycroft warns. "Though I do enjoy the view—" Greg jokingly wiggles his hips, Mycroft laughs, "You're going to get sick and I will send you to your own home."

Greg smiles and slips back into the room. He closes the window and shakes the snowflakes away fro his head. "Woo!" he shouts, trotting back to the bed and hopping in, "It's cold out there!"

Mycroft pushes him away. "Get out of here! You're freezing cold and soaking wet!"

Greg pushes against Mycroft as much as he can and wraps his body around Mycroft. "I love the snow," Greg says.

"I hate it. It's terrible."

"Why do you even live in London?" Greg questions. "You hate everything about this city, why do you live here?"

"I love London, I hate its weather."

Greg laughs. "Come on. Can we please go play in the snow?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"I'll buy you hot chocolate. And new gloves."

"I don't need new gloves. I need warmth and I need you to take your clothes off."

Greg grins. "Oh? What for?"

"To stay warm."

Greg finally wins, of course. Over the years he's won most arguments, and this one is no different. He finally coaxes Mycroft outside when the snow stops, though there is still some on the ground. He takes Mycroft's hand and they walk down the street.

"I'm cold, Greg."

"I said I'd buy you hot chocolate."

"I don't want hot chocolate."

"A latte, then. I know you can never pass up a latte."

Mycroft sighs. "Fine. It'd better be a big latte."

Greg buys Mycroft a big latte and continues leading him through London.

"Let's go ice skating," Greg tries. "I love ice skating."

"No. No bloody ice skating."

"Why? You don't know how?"

"I do know how. I used to like it. Sherlock and I used to go all the time."

"Yeah? Then why can't we go?"

"I don't like it."

Greg sighs. "You're absolutely no fun."

"I know," Mycroft says, taking a sip of his latte.

Greg kisses Mycroft's cheek and slips his hand away. "You go on, I'm going to look at something," Greg says.

Mycroft shrugs and does continue walking, but five seconds later, he's hit in the back by a huge snowball. Mycroft pauses and turns around. Greg is looking at him with a wide grin and another huge snowball.

"Gregory," Mycroft warns. "Don't."

Greg evilly grins. "Or what?"

Mycroft backs down the street. "I'll throw my latte at you."

Greg laughs. "You wouldn't."

"I would, I definitely would."

Greg holds the ball up in a throwing position. "Promise we'll go ice skating and I will put it down."

"Never," Mycroft says.

Greg holds it up higher. "I'll throw, then. I'm a pretty good aim, I can hit your face. Ready? Five…four…"

"Gregory, stop!"

"Three…two…"

"Fine, fine!" Mycroft shouts. "We can go ice skating!"

Greg gives a genuine smile and pulls his arm down. "Good choice, love."

Mycroft stops backing down the street. Greg steps up to him and kisses him once, then pushes the ball into the front of his coat.

"Gregory!"

"I said I wouldn't _throw _it!"

Mycroft takes a deep breath, then bends to pick up some snow. Before Greg can run away, Mycroft pushes it into his hair. They both laugh now, and continue picking up handfuls of snow and throwing it at each other. Finally Greg stops and takes Mycroft's hand again, then pulls him down the street.

"Where are we going?" Mycroft asks.

"Ice skating!"

**Couple 2**

John's phone wakes them. It rings for long seconds before John rolls over and answers it, then murmurs agreements and hangs up.

"I've got to go to work," John announces, rolling back over and taking Sherlock in his arms.

"But it's snowing," Sherlock grumbles.

"How do you know that?" John asks. The windows are covered by large curtains, and John never saw Sherlock even open his eyes.

"They don't call me a genius for nothing, John."

John chuckles. "Alright. How thick is the snow, then?"

"Only a few inches now, but soon there will be more and…" Sherlock sighs and shifts closer to John. "I can't bare to let you leave."

John frowns. "I know, love. But I'll be back by two, I promise."

Sherlock sighs with his entire body. "It's cold out there. It's warm in here. This shouldn't be difficult."

"It's not, but I _have _to go."

"You don't _have _to—"

"Sherlock," John groans. "Please, honey. I have to."

Sherlock lets him go.

John kisses him once. "I love you." John stands from the bed and looks down at Sherlock.

Sherlock curls up against John's pillow and pretends to be asleep. "Mhm."

"Sherlock."

"Mmm?"

"I said I love you."

"Mhm."

John sighs. "Fine. I know you're mad. I'm leaving."

Sherlock groans and immediately sits up, grabs John, and sticks his tongue into John's mouth. John wraps his arms around Sherlock and holds him tight, and when he feels Sherlock pull him back into the bed, he lets himself be pulled and thinks that he can afford to be a bit late.

John finally makes it to work and is incredibly grouchy all day. He doesn't mind the snow, he likes it just fine, he just doesn't like that the people of London act like the first snow is the end of the world. Most of the patients he has all day are there because they slipped and fell in the snow. They have many patients with colds because they didn't wear coats when it was freezing yesterday. And they have at least a three kids who have a body part stuck to something frozen. All in all, it's a terribly long day and at two o'clock, John is so happy to be going home.

John expects to be greeted by Sherlock as soon as he gets home. He expects to have a long, hot bath with his love, then some dinner, then hot dessert and early to bed. However, Sherlock is nowhere in the flat.

John groans in annoyance as he calls Sherlock.

"John," Sherlock answers.

"Where the hell are you? I expected to get home and be able to cuddle with you in the bath, but I'm just going to have to take one by myself because you're off being brilliant somewhere."

Sherlock chuckles into the phone. "John, I'm upstairs."

"Up…" John goes to the stairs and looks up. "Well come down!"

"On the roof, John! Come up here!"

"No! You come down here!"

"Not until you come up here."

John sighs and rolls his eyes, then makes his way upstairs and to the roof.

"It's bloody freezing," John announces as he steps onto the roof.

"Hold that thought, John, I just—"

Sherlock covers John's eyes with a gloved yet cold hand and leads him a few feet forward. He uncovers John's eyes, and John sees at least a dozen snow men piled everywhere doing different things. One looks like he's searching for his head, one is drinking tea at the small table they have, one is adjusting his scarf. There's a mess of them and John looks at them and laughs.

"You did all of this?"

"Yes, John. It was quite fun, actually. Guess which ones we are."

John examines each and finds the two that are obviously him and Sherlock. One's taller and one's shorter, one is wearing the deerstalker and one is wearing a jumper, and they're kissing.

"Is it those ones over there having sex?" John asks, pointing at two who, yes, look like they're having sex.

"What?! No! No, those ones aren't—they weren't supposed to be—"

John laughs. "Sure, love, mhm."

Sherlock smiles and playfully nudges John, then wraps his long arms around the smaller man. "You said something about a bath?"

John grins and pulls away from Sherlock. "In a second, love, I just…" John trails off as he goes to the table and takes a handful of snow.

"John. No."

John grins as he throws the snowball at Sherlock. Sherlock laughs and tackles John to the snow covered ground. They play and pretend to fight in the snow for a while, and finally they do go inside and have that bath.

**Couple 3**

"I hate the snow. I hate the snow, I hate this client, and I hate you."

"Me?! Why do you hate me?! I didn't make it snow!"

"I'm sure you did. You're capable of all kinds of crazy shit, someone probably paid you to make it snow!"

"Now, Seb, that's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous! Go away!"

Jim frowns and stands. He begins to walk away from Sebastian, when—

"I didn't mean to really go away!"

Jim holds back a smile and sits back down on the wet blanket.

"Just shut up."

"I didn't even say anythi—"

"Shut up!"

Jim clenches his mouth shut.

Finally, the kill is made and Sebastian begins to pack. "My bloody gun is frozen."

"I'm sorry," Jim quietly says.

Sebastian sighs and throws his gun into his bag. "It's fine, let's go home."

Jim silently follows Sebastian. Sebastian makes it out of the building in front of Jim, and when they step out onto the sidewalk, he forcefully takes Jim's hand and pulls Jim next to him.

"I need warm food," he says.

Jim nods.

They go to a restaurant they like and order soup. They sit silently until finally Sebastian barks at Jim that he can talk.

"I don't know what to say," Jim says.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "God, I'm sorry, ok? I just really hate the bloody snow. It's cold and wet and sticky and terrible, ok? I don't like it."

Jim nods. "It's ok."

"It's not ok, ok? I'm sorry for yelling at you."

Jim looks at Sebastian. He nods and says ok again.

Their soup comes and Sebastian eagerly begins to eat it. He doesn't even care what kind it is, he just wants to be warm. Jim eats his slower than Sebastian does, and as soon as Sebastian is finished he orders another bowl.

"What do we have to do after this?" Sebastian asks.

"Uhm…well, I have to meet with a client, but you can go home if you want."

"Not bloody likely," Sebastian says. "I let you go alone yesterday and here I am today. I'm going with you."

Jim nods.

After lunch it's snowing again, so they take a cab to go only six blocks. Sebastian wants absolutely nothing to do with the snow.

They finish their meeting an hour later, and Sebastian gripes while they wait for a cab. "I hate this," he says.

"I know, love."

"Why does it have to snow?"

"We're in London."

"I want to move."

"We're not moving."

"I hate snow."

"I know."

They make it home and Sebastian immediately gets in a steaming hot shower. "I hate being cold!" he calls over the spray, knowing Jim is sitting waiting for him.

"I know," Jim says.

Sebastian gets out, grabs a towel, and begins to dry off in front of Jim. "I'm not leaving the house tomorrow."

Jim nods.

"I mean it, Jim. I'm not leaving."

"Are you going to just hide out all winter?"

Sebastian nods. "Yes, I am."

Jim rolls his eyes. He stands and takes Sebastian's hand, then pulls him through to their bedroom. "Come on, I know how to keep you warm."

Sebastian lays on the bed while Jim undresses. His plan has worked perfectly, a mini-holiday is exactly what they need.

_***I live in Arizona and it snowed here yesterday and today, which it absolutely never does in my part of the state. It didn't stick but I was very happy about it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! **_


	97. Chapter 97

_***This chapter is an idea that came to me because I'm writing a Teen!Mystrade AU (check it out, it's called Being 16!). So this is each couple as kids. It's fluffy and I think it's cute. I hope you guys enjoy! Please review! By the way, each kid is five (except Sherlock is four). Thank you! **_

**Couple 1**

Mycroft loves the library. It's the only place in all of London that Mummy lets him roam by himself—within the kids' section, that is. He happily skips through the isles and picks every book he wants, then finds a spot to sit and reads them all. Mycroft is very pleased to see that today the big, comfy chair is free. He takes his books to the chair and throws one open.

An hour later, Mycroft gets the uneasy feeling that he's being watched. He doesn't like that feeling, because it usually means that he is being watched and that's never good. He lowers his book and looks around; spotting nobody, he begins to read again.

Minutes later, he feels it again. Again, he lowers his book and sees nobody.

Less time than that later, he feels it a third time. This time, he quickly closes his book and is quick enough to see a boy ducking behind a bookshelf.

"Come out," Mycroft calls to him. "I know you're there."

The boy peeks around the shelf and grins. He slowly steps away from the shelf and tiptoes to Mycroft.

"What do you want?" Mycroft demands.

The boy shrugs. "I'm just watchin' you."

"Why?"

The boy shrugs again. "I like your shirt."

Mycroft glances down at his royal blue polo shirt. It's nothing special. "Thanks."

The boy smiles. "My name is Greg."

Mycroft nods and looks back at his book.

"Ok," Greg frowns and sulks away. "I'll leave you alone."

Mycroft looks over his book and watches him walk away.

A week later, Mycroft returns at the same exact time and does the same exact thing, just as he always does.

And the same thing happens. He catches Greg watching him behind a shelf.

Mycroft sighs. "Come out."

Greg waltzes out from behind the shelf. "Whatcha readin'?"

"Alice In Wonderland."

Greg stands next to the right arm of Mycroft's chair. Not the fluffy chair, unfortunately, but this one is a close second. Greg rests his arms on the arm. "I can't read."

"Why not?"

Greg shrugs.

"If you can't read, then why are you in a library?"

"My Mum is the librarian."

Mycroft nods in understanding.

"What's your name?" Greg asks.

"Mycroft."

Greg lifts his hands and rests his chin in them. "That's a pretty name," he dreamily says.

Mycroft looks at him. "Thanks."

"Mmm," Greg sounds, grinning at Mycroft.

"What do you want?"

Greg shrugs.

"Don't you have other friends?"

Greg nods. "I have a girlfriend."

Mycroft suddenly feels angry and he doesn't know why. "Who?"

"Lily. She comes for Story Hour."

"Hmm," Mycroft replies.

"I like her hair bows."

"Mmm."

"And she has pretty hair," Greg says, "Kinda like yours."

Mycroft looks confused. "Do you think mine is pretty?"

Greg drops his arms and buries his face in his arms. He giggles into the chair.

Mycroft decides not to pry, he just goes back to his book.

Greg steps away a second later. "I gotta go. It's Story Hour."

"Mmm."

"You should come."

"No thanks."

Greg smiles at him anyway and leaves.

The next day, Greg comes back to Mycroft and doesn't even try to hide. He just pouts to Mycroft's chair and sits on the floor in front of him. He rests his hand in his hands and frowns.

Mycroft sighs. Greg's pouting is far too distracting. "What?"

"I got to Study Hour yesterday…" Greg sniffles. "…and Lily was…" he sniffles again. "…holding hands with…" Greg sniffles. "…a different boy."

Mycroft frowns. "Uhm…" he really doesn't know what to say. He's seen people heartbroken before, but that doesn't mean he's an expert in _love. _"She likes the other boy?"

Greg nods.

"Maybe you should…you should like someone else."

Greg looks up at Mycroft, his eyes damp and his cheeks red. "Who?"

Mycroft shrugs.

Greg perks up as if he has a brilliant idea. "I know!" Greg stands and goes to Mycroft's chair. "I'll like you!"

Mycroft's eyes grow wide. "But…I…"

Greg grins as if it's the best idea he's ever heard. "That's a great idea!"

"Oh, Gregory!" a woman calls through the isles.

"There's my Mummy. I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Mycroft absentmindedly nods, and when he feels Greg kiss his cheek, he blushes. Greg smiles at him and runs away through the isle. Mycroft lightly touches the cheek Greg just kissed and slowly begins to smile.

_Maybe this won't be so bad, _Mycroft smiles.

**Couple 2**

"I'm four and you're stupid. Don't talk to me."

What a way to start a friendship, right? The sandy-blond haired boy frowns deeply.

"That was rude."

The brunette frowns back. "Wha's your name?"

"John," he says, making his voice deeper than it should be.

"How old a' you?"

"Five and a half."

"And why a' you here?"

John shrugs. "I thought that you were hurt."

The brunette stands and brushes the dirt off his coat. "I am not hurt."

"You fell off the swing."

The brunette huffs. He turns away from John and stalks down the small dirt path.

John glances back at his play group and decides quickly that they are _extremely _boring. His mother is busy talking to another mummy, so he turns back to the brunette and trots after him.

"My mummy said 'stupid' is a bad word," John announces as he catches up with the other boy.

The brunette glances at him and furrows his brows. "Your mum is stupid."

John doesn't think before he acts (something mummy keeps telling him he needs to work on) and socks the boy right in the high cheekbone. John shakes his fist to get the instant pain out of his hand.

"What the 'ell was that for?!" the boy shouts at John, holding his bruised cheek.

"Don't call my mum stupid."

The four-year-old thinks about punching him back, but his brother taught him more manners than that. Instead, he grins at the boy. "I'm Sherlock."

"Sherlock?" John questions. "What kind of name is that?"

Sherlock frowns. Never, _never _is anyone allowed to insult his name; it's the only thing that belongs to him. This time, he punches John back.

John stumbles back but catches himself before he falls. He gapes at Sherlock, his jaw hanging open.

"John!" John hears from a ways away. He looks over and sees his mum running towards them. She grabs him as soon as she approaches. "Are you ok, honey?" she asks.

"Yes, Mummy."

Sherlock looks around for his nanny, positive that if she saw, he'd have to leave. She's nowhere to be seen, however, so he just stands there as John's mummy examines him.

"Come on, baby," John's mum says, pulling John away, "Let's go home."

"No!" John shouts. "I want to stay!"

"But honey—"

John yanks his arm away from his mum. "I'm stayin' here with Sherlock."

John's mum glances at Sherlock. "Are you sure, honey?"

"Yes, Mum. I hit him first."

"John! What have I told you about hitting?"

John frowns at his shoes. "Sorry, Mum."

John's mum sighs. "If you two play nice, we can stay. But if I see you playing rough one more time, we're going home."

John looks at her and smiles a full smile. Sherlock notices he's missing two teeth.

John's mum leaves and the two boys go back to the swing where Sherlock had just fallen.

"Where's your mum?" John asks as he hops up onto the swing.

Sherlock shrugs, standing next to John. "Dunno."

"Is she alive?" John bluntly asks. "My mummy's mum died. Did yours?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "No. She's alive."

John nods. "Good. Everyone needs a mum."

Sherlock nods.

"Aren't you gonna swing?"

Sherlock shakes his head. He stares at John barely moving on the swing, then pounces at him. He pushes John backwards onto the ground, then quickly straddles his belly and pulls out his magnifying glass.

"What're you doin'?!" John demands. "Get off me!"

Sherlock grabs John's head and holds him in place, and with one hand he pulls John's top lip up.

"Stop it!" John shouts as best he can.

Sherlock examines John's gums where the two missing teeth should be. "Where'd your teeth go?!" Sherlock demands.

"I lost 'em!"

Sherlock snaps his magnifying glass shut and stands. "We mus' find them!"

John sits up and laughs. "You silly! The Tooth Fairy took them!"

Sherlock looks confused. "The Tooth Fairy?"

"Yes! When your teeth fall out, she visits and takes them to her castle. And she leaves money!"

Sherlock _knows _there's a flaw in that story. "Nobody lives in castles, dumby."

"The Queen does!"

Sherlock's eyes widen. "Is the Queen the Tooth Fairy?"

John slowly nods. "Maybe."

"Cool…" Sherlock touches his teeth. "How come I have all o' mine?"

John shrugs. "I'm older."

Sherlock counts on his fingers. _Yes, five is bigger than four. _"But I'm bigger."

John stands in front of Sherlock. Sherlock is at least three inches taller, and John is more round around the middle.

"You're like a little teddy bear," Sherlock says.

John giggles.

"What?!"

"That's what my mum calls me!"

Sherlock cracks a smile. "She's right!"

"My little teddy bear at home named Teddy has a little blue button for a belly button, 'cause…" John lifts his shirt. "I have one, too!" He presses his little outty belly button and giggles.

Sherlock takes his magnifying glass out again. "Why's it like that?"

John shrugs. "I dunno."

Sherlock pokes it and John giggles. Sherlock snaps his magnifying glass shut again and stands. "You're interestin', John."

John smiles up at him. "You too, Sherlock."

"Should we hug o' somethin'?" Sherlock asks.

John looks confused. "Why?"

"'Cause you're my boyfrien' now."

John's eyes widen. Sherlock shrugs and turns away, quickly walking towards the jungle gym.

"Sherlock!" John calls after a few stunned seconds. "I don't think I'm ready for that!" he shouts after Sherlock.

"Come on, John!" Sherlock calls back. "There are things to explore!"

John doesn't think about it, he just takes off after Sherlock.

**Couple 3**

If there is _anything _Sebastian is good at, it's climbing trees. And shooting his slingshot. And braiding his sister's hair. And painting Mummy's fingernails. And painting pictures of sharks. Ok, ok, Sebastian is good at many things, but definitely climbing trees.

He sits up on the thickest branch and waits. Someone is bound to walk by. Daddy said he should stop shooting people, but he figures that nobody will see him in the tree, therefore he won't get in trouble.

He holds the sling shot between his teeth and reaches behind him to tighten the bandana around his head. He gently dabs his cheeks; the war paint is still there. He almost had to re-do it this morning after Daddy found him shooting birds in the front yard again. Daddy tells him not to cry, that big boys shouldn't cry, but a five year old can only compose himself so much.

Sebastian sighs out of boredom. _Come on, people! _he thinks. He digs in his pocket through the rocks he gathered and takes out a piece of chocolate he took from the candy cabinet. He licks his lips and grins, then unwraps the candy and stuffs it in his mouth. He drops the wrapper and watches it fall all the way to the ground.

"Hey!" someone below him shouts. "That's litt…little…littering!"

Sebastian looks down as much as he can without losing his balance. "What's it to ya?"

A boy steps out from under the branch and stares up at Sebastian. "Do you _want _to kill the earth?!"

Sebastian stares at him for a second, then raises his slingshot and loads it with a rock. He pulls the rubber back and holds it in front of his face. He closes his left eye, to get a better aim, and points it right at the other boy's face.

"You don't have the guts to shoot me," the boy teases.

"You bet I don't?"

The boy rolls his eyes and turns around, then walks away.

Sebastian lets go of the rubber and the rock hits the other boy right in the back of the head. He falls to his knees, crying out in shock and grabbing the back of his head.

"You idiot!" the other boy cries. "I'm bleeding!"

Sebastian doesn't want to move, but he figures he should make sure the boy is ok. He slowly makes his way down the tree and stands over the other boy when he gets to the ground.

"You ok?" he asks.

The other boy is still on his knees, so he just punches Sebastian right between the legs. It's not a hard hit, but Sebastian drops next to him.

"What was that for?!" Sebastian demands.

"You shot me!"

Sebastian composes himself and stands up. "Bye," he says, then begins to make his way back to the tree.

"Wait!" the other boy calls after him. "What's your name?"

"None of your business," Sebastian replies. That's what Daddy always says when he doesn't want to talk to someone.

"My name is James, but everyone calls me Jim. I'm almost six!"

"Cool," Sebastian replies, digging his foot into the park of the tree and stepping up to catch the lowest branch.

"You're like a monkey," Jim says.

"I don't like monkeys."

"Me neither. They're dumb."

Sebastian catches the second branch and looks down. "What do you want?"

"You're good at shooting things, I want you to help me."

"Shoot things?"

Jim nods.

Sebastian doesn't think it over, he just hops down the tree. "What is it?"

Jim looks around as if trying to see if anyone's listening. Then he starts, "Amy, over there, told me that Bart is bein' mean. She wants me to do somethin' about it. You can shoot him."

Sebastian looks skeptical. "What's in it for me?" Daddy also says that a lot.

"Amy gave me three cookies to do somethin'. I'll give you one."

"That's not fair. I'm shootin' him."

Jim sighs. "Fine, you can have one and I'll split the other. What do you say?"

Sebastian smiles. "Who's Bart?"

Jim leads Sebastian over to the little hill overlooking the jungle gym. It's a tiny, tiny hill, but it's big enough for the boys to lay flat on their bellies and peer over it.

"That's Bart," Jim says. "He's a twat."

Sebastian giggles. "My Daddy says that."

Jim smiles. "Mine, too."

Sebastian takes the biggest rock in his pocket out and puts it in the sling shot. He holds it up and aims it.

"How do you shoot so well?" Jim asks.

Sebastian sighs. "I concentrate. Stop talking."

Jim pretends to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key.

Sebastian sets up again, this time closing his one eye and pulling the rubber back. He lets it go, and seconds later they hear Bart scream out in pain.

"Where'd you hit him?" Jim asks.

"In the head."

Jim laughs. He takes out the little baggy of cookies and gives Sebastian his share. "You gonna tell me your name now?" Jim asks.

"Sebastian," Sebastian says through a mouth full of cookie.

Jim smiles. "I like that name."

Sebastian looks at him, his mouth still full of cookie. "Thanks."

"I like your war paint," Jim says.

"Thanks. I put it on every day. I want to go to war one day."

"That's cool," Jim says. He looks at Sebastian in complete awe, then leans over and quickly presses his lips to Sebastian's. Sebastian looks stunned, but other than that he has no expression.

"Why'd ya do that?" Sebastian asks.

Jim shrugs. "I like you."

Sebastian looks confused. "My Daddy said boys can't kiss boys."

"Sure they can," Jim replies. "As long as they both like it. Did you like it?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I dunno. I guess. It was different from kissin' my Mum."

Jim smiles. "You wanna shoot some other people?"

Sebastian grins. "Who next?"

Jim looks back at the kids playing on the playground. He points to random people for an hour and Sebastian shoots them.


	98. Chapter 98

**Couple 1**

"Your brother—"

"Gregory."

"He's going to be the death of me, that's all I'm going to say."

"What did he do now?"

"He called me an hour ago claiming the murderer we caught wasn't the right one."

"Well, that's good."

"Made me miss our date."

"It's worth missing to find a murderer."

"Yeah, I know."

"Did you find him?"

"We found _her_."

"I thought you said the murderer had to be a man."

"She was a big woman."

"Ha. So what now?"

"I don't know. Sherlock is watching over the forensics team making sure they don't screw anything up, and I'm up in my office doing paperwork."

"Paperwork for this case?"

"I'm undoing the paperwork we had from before."

"Oh. I see."

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting in bed."

"Oh? Doing?"

"Reading up on…something."

"Always so secretive."

"I have to be."

"Mmm. What have you done tonight?"

"I had dinner. And I finished some work. And I was trying to fall asleep, but I'm having a bit of trouble."

"What did you have for dinner?"

"I ordered Italian."

"Mmm. I'm starving."

"I got you something for when you get home."

"You're the best."

"I know how to keep you happy."

"That you do. Why are you having trouble sleeping?"

"I don't know. I've just got a lot on my mind, I suppose."

"Like?"

"Like…the fact that you are still at work."

"I'll be home soon. I promise. Sherlock just texted me and said he'll be up here in a few minutes."

"And you can leave after that?"

"I'll get his statement and then I'll leave."

"How long will that take?"

"A little under an hour, if he cooperates."

"I'm going to threaten his life."

"Why? Need me home that badly?"

"Yes."

"Well, then I'll make him talk fast."

"Good. See you soon."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

**Couple 2**

"You talk too much."

"I'm thinking."

"Stop thinking. I'm trying to sleep with you."

"I don't understand that expression. No sleeping is involved."

"I'm trying to…engage in activities with you in the place of our rest."

"John…"

"Then take your damn pants off and stop talking."

"You haven't even…Mmm…"

"Like that?"

"Go on."

"Then stop talking and I'll continue."

"My mind is just racing, John."

"Ok, talk and I'll work."

"I just don't understand the criminal's motive. I can't help but have the feeling that the real murderer is still out there."

"Mmm…we caught the real murderer."

"No, John, I don't think we did."

"Well, could you stop talking about murderers while I'm trying to have sex with you."

"I don't like that word."

"Which word?"

"Sex. It's such an odd word."

"God, what word would you rather I use? Canoodle?"

"Ha! That's not a word, John, that's…Mmm…"

"That's what I thought."

"There was a flaw in the forensics."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not surprised. Anderson isn't always fit for his job."

"Is he ever?"

"Ha. No, I suppose not. He lowers the IQ of the whole street."

"So I've heard. There was a flaw in the forensics?"

"Yes. The finger prints didn't match…anyone's. It is odd."

"Isn't it always?"

"Maybe they were planted there."

"Well of course, John…Did I tell you to stop?"

"You're just a tad distracted."

"Oh for God's sake—"

"Umf! Sherlock. I hate when you throw me around."

"No, you don't. Lay back."

"Well? Entertain me."

"The prints couldn't have been planted."

"What now?"

"The prints. The killer had to have used his own prints. It's very difficult to perfectly place thumb prints on a gun."

"Is it?"

"You know it is."

"Maybe this person is an experienced gunman."

"Yes, who _shot _someone else."

"Hmm. We're not going to be having sex tonight are we?"

"Not unless we catch this killer in the next few hours."

"Fine, let's go phone Lestrade."

**Couple 3**

"I hate you."

"You tell me you hate me a lot. It's not exactly what I like to hear after a long day."

"I married you. I'm allowed to hate you." 

"Am I allowed to hate you?" 

"No." 

"Why not?" 

"I'm your husband." 

"So? I'm yours." 

"It was in your vows."

"I'm absolutely positive I didn't say 'You're allowed to hate me' in my

vows." 

"You said you will make me happy." 

"I don't make you happy?" 

"Not when you do something to make me hate you." 

"Well, what did I do? I haven't even seen you all day." 

"Yup." 

"'Yup'? What does that mean?" 

"It means yes." 

"Ugh. What does yes mean?" 

"It means-" 

"If you give me the dictionary definition of the word 'yes', I will cut your

tongue out and grill it for dinner." 

"Fine. Figure out why I'm mad at you then." 

"It's because you haven't seen me all day?" 

"Right-o, baby." 

"Why would that upset you? I brought dinner." 

"It's an anniversary." 

"Of what?!" 

"From the first time we had sex." 

"No...that was-" 

"Consensual sex." 

"Do you want to have some now?" 

"Nope." 

"'Nope'?" 

"It means-" 

"Shut up. How can I make it up to you, then? Obviously it's important to

you." 

"You said you brought dinner?" 

"Yes, I brought you egg drop soup because I know you're still angry with the snow." 

"Maybe I should have married it. I hate it just as often as I hate you." 

"That hurts my feelings." 

"YOUR feelings?" 

"Stop laughing. I don't like when you hate me." 

"Fine. Come here and give me a hug." 

"How's this?" 

"It's nice." 

"Are you trying to fondle me through my trousers?" 

"Is it turning you on?" 

"I guess." 

"You guess?" 

"I'd be more comfortable if my trousers were off." 

"Go ahead then." 

"We're in the kitchen." 

"Oh, you baby. Take me to bed then. You owe me." 

"You owe me for telling me you hate me so much." 

"Fair enough." 

"Now take your pants off." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Have you been hard this entire time?" 

"Yep." 

"Hating me gets you off?" 

"No, you're going get me off." 

"Stop talking, then." 

"Yes, sir."

_***This was just dialogue. Which was fun to write. I'm almost to 100, which is cool! Thanks for reading! **_


	99. Chapter 99

**Couple 1**

Greg loves weddings, no matter whose it is. He loves getting dressed up and fancy, he loves the _love _involved, and he loves the free food (who doesn't?!).

When he got the invitation to Sally Donovan's wedding, he was really very excited. A wedding in the department means he gets to wear his dress uniform, which he rarely gets to. He happily fished it out of his closet and took it down to the dry-cleaners, and when he got it back a few days later he was so excited.

Now, a few weeks later, it's the morning of the wedding and he is getting ready alongside his lovely boyfriend, who hates weddings.

"Why do I have to go?" Mycroft questions as he watches Greg shave.

"You're my date," Greg replies.

"She doesn't even like me, Gregory. Is Sherlock going?"

"He is, believe it or not. Josh promised he'd drag him along."

"Perfect. Two Holmes present; nothing makes a day more magical for a woman."

Greg laughs. "Hopefully she'll be distracted enough to not notice you two."

Greg finishes with his face and goes to the bedroom and takes his suit off the hook on the closet.

"Why is the wedding this morning, anyway? It's raining."

"I'm sure she didn't see it raining when she planned this a few months ago."

Mycroft goes to the window. "It looks like a perfect day for a funeral."

Greg chuckles. "You're so gloomy. I'm excited about this, alright? Besides, you'll be back to work by noon."

Mycroft nods. "After breakfast?"

"Yep. Wedding, breakfast with the guys, and done."

Mycroft turns away from the window and sees Greg wearing his dress trousers and shirt. Greg's buttoning the cuffs on his sleeves.

"I've never seen you wear your dress uniform," Mycroft says.

Greg shrugs. "It not much different than wearing any other suit."

Mycroft goes to him and sits on the bed. "Do you have to wear the hat?"

Greg chuckles and zips then buttons his trousers. "No, not during the ceremony."

"Is everyone wearing their dress uniform?"

Greg nods. "Everyone on the force."

Mycroft watches him get dressed, but he moves when Greg asks him what he's wearing. They're quick to dress after that, Mycroft taking minutes at a time to simultaneously dress and stare at Greg .

The wedding is very nice. It's small and quiet, and very quick. It's indoors, so the rain doesn't bother anybody, but afterwards everyone stands around outside before breakfast begins. Luckily, Mycroft has his umbrella, but Sherlock and John stand in the light drizzle without one.

Mycroft and Greg get into Mycroft's car to go to the breakfast. As soon as they get in, Mycroft raises the center wall between driver and the backseat, then scoots close to Greg.

"What are you doing?" Greg asks, chuckling.

"You look very nice," Mycroft replies, taking hold of Greg's chin and turning Greg's head to his own. He kisses Greg softly at first, deepening the kiss with many strokes of his tongue.

Greg moans into Mycroft's mouth, sinking down in his seat and pulling Mycroft close to him.

"Mmm…wait…" Greg mutters, "We…can't…"

Mycroft lays back on the seat as much as he can and pulls Greg on top of him. "Your suit…" Mycroft says, kissing Greg again.

They arrive at the restaurant without even realizing the car stopped, and minutes later the door is thrown open. Greg and Mycroft both look up into the face of a very disgusted looking Sherlock.

"Gross," Sherlock mutters, stepping away from the car.

Greg and Mycroft sit up and adjust their suits.

"Grow up, Sherlock," Mycroft says, climbing out of the car.

The four get into the restaurant and to their seats, and Greg and Sherlock decide to get up to say hello to everyone. Well, John makes Sherlock, and since Sally has actually been nicer since becoming engaged, Sherlock agrees.

John and Mycroft uncomfortably sit at the table sipping their orange juice, both men watching their boyfriends intently.

"My brother's cleaned up well," Mycroft says, "No doubt you influenced his wedding attire."

John half smiles, hearing the compliment in all of that. "Yeah. He looks great. Greg's suit looks nice, too."

Mycroft grins. "It does, doesn't it?"

John glances at him, then sips his juice again. He chuckles as he pulls the glass away.

"What's funny?" Mycroft questions.

"Nothing, nothing," John says, "It's just nice when you boys are humans after all."

"What do you mean?"

John shakes his head. "Nothing."

The breakfast ends and Greg and Mycroft go home to change before work. Mycroft practically attacks him.

"Your suit…" he mutters.

Greg smiles as Mycroft begins to unbutton his jacket. "You really love this?"

Mycroft nods, kissing his throat. "I don't know why," he admits.

"I need to find more occasions to wear it then."

Mycroft nods again, this time pushing Greg down onto the bed.

Greg doesn't need to wear the dress suit again after that for many months, but the next time has the same effect on Mycroft, and of course Greg doesn't mind it.

**Couple 2 –Rated M**

Sherlock likes to pretend that he doesn't have a military kink, but he so clearly does. Sometimes he justifies it as, "John being in the military is so convenient during cases," but most of the time it's just "John's military voice is really sexy."

Lestrade calls them to help in this case because it involves the murder of an ex-soldier, but the main suspect is a current soldier.

Sherlock and John are sent to his house to interrogate, and John decides he'd dress the part by putting on his uniform.

Sherlock's knees give out when John enters the sitting room after getting dressed. He quickly takes a seat at the sofa and grabs a pillow to place over his lap.

"You ok?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "Fine, fine."

John eyes him skeptically, then turns to the mirror to smooth his hair down. Sherlock takes the chance to skim his eyes over John's backside.

John catches him in the mirror and grins. "See something you like?"

Sherlock's eyes flash up to make contact with John's through the mirror. He clears his throat. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

John turns around again. "Ready?"

Sherlock stands and motions out the door. "After you, _Captain_."

They get to the soldier's apartment and asks him all the questions they need. He opens up more to John than Sherlock, so after a while Sherlock offers to step out for coffee. Then, the soldier tells John everything they need to know and they find that he isn't the murderer, but there is another soldier they could talk to for information.

The two men go home and John takes the uniform off and packs it away again. Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just silently watches John take it off.

The next day, they decide to pay a visit to the second soldier, so John takes his uniform out once again and puts it on.

And once again, Sherlock steals glances and goes a bit brain dead at each and every military thing John does. There's a uniform, the voice, the damn saluting. Sherlock can barely control himself.

He decides not to go in to see this suspect, instead he waits for John at the café down the street.

When John's finished, they go to Lestrade's office to talk it over with him. They decide to walk the short way there, and Sherlock likes to watch the way John walks in his uniform. Far more military, straight-backed than usual.

They get home many hours later, many hours after Sherlock solves the case (it was the first soldier) and John goes straight to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea instead of taking the uniform off. Sherlock follows him, draping his body over John's and resting his chin on John's shoulder.

"You were brilliant today," John says, stirring his tea.

"Yes, thanks to Captain Watson."

John smiles and turns his head to kiss Sherlock's cheek. "It was all you."

Sherlock presses his body fully against John's, pressing his erection into John's back.

"Oh?" John tries to turn around, but Sherlock stops him.

Sherlock wraps his arm around John and slips his fingers into the buttons of John's uniform top.

"Just let me take it off," John begs.

Sherlock begins unbuttoning John's top and slowly pulls it off John's shoulders, leaving John in his white undershirt and camouflage pants. Then, he unbuttons John's trousers and barely shoves them down his thighs.

"Well?" John questions as Sherlock does nothing more than kiss his neck. "Do me," he commands.

Sherlock moans into his ear.

John straightens his shoulders and broadens his back. "Do it, Sherlock. Now." His voice is sharp like it gets when he talks to fellow soldiers.

"God, John…"

John pulls out of Sherlock's grasp and turns around, then palms Sherlock through his trousers. Sherlock groans and pushes into John's touch.

"Don't you dare come," John demands. "I want my way with you first."

John unbuckles Sherlock's trousers, then pushes him back against the table. Sherlock barely sits back on the table, lifting his legs to let John pull one of his legs out of his trousers. John then spreads Sherlock's legs and steps between them.

"Lube?" John questions.

Sherlock nods and reaches around the current set of experiments on the table. He grabs the tube of lube and shoves it into John's hand, then reaches into John's shirt and fishes out his tags. Sherlock moans and yanks the tags as John begins to prepare Sherlock.

Minutes later, John pushes smoothly into Sherlock and Sherlock wraps his legs tightly around John's waist. John thrusts as hard as he can, the table skittering along the floor and his belt buckle clanking against his thigh. Sherlock pants and moans into his mouth, still holding the tags.

Finally, John gives one final, hard command, "Come, now!"

Sherlock does, long and hard all over John.

John comes long seconds later, and gently lowers Sherlock's legs to the floor. He pulls his pants up and lets the flaps of his trousers hang open.

"You ok?" John asks.

Sherlock takes several deep breaths. "You…have no…idea…"

John grins. "Good?"

Sherlock vigorously nods.

"I've got to remember that kink more often."

"Please," Sherlock tries, clutching his chest, "You'll kill me."

John smiles and kisses him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock mutters, "Captain."

**Couple 3**

Sebastian gets depressed. Not often, no, but when he does he doesn't feel like doing anything or getting dressed or leaving the flat. The first time, Jim pushed him and pushed him, and it resulted in a terrible fight that caused Jim to move out of the flat for a week.

After the third time, Jim realized that it's when Sebastian misses the military. No, it's not often, but he does get to missing it sometimes and that's never good. Jim tries to soothe him by taking him shooting or something, but mostly he just lets Sebastian feel terrible.

It's the third day of Sebastian's depression and he's finally decided to change out of his pajamas into his Army pants and a black t-shirt. When Jim walks through the door and sees that, he sighs.

"Not feeling well?" he asks.

Sebastian shrugs and pushes himself deeper into the sofa.

Jim sits at his feet. "It's not good that you put these on," he says, patting Sebastian's leg.

Sebastian shrugs again.

"Hungry?"

Sebastian shakes his head.

Jim lays down, his head resting on Sebastian's lap. "This is nice," he says.

Sebastian pats his head.

They lay that way for a while, until Sebastian gets up to use the restroom. When he returns he just sits up next to Jim, and Jim doesn't say anything. A while after that, Sebastian rests his head on Jim's shoulder, and Jim pats his thigh.

"What do you want me to do?" Jim asks.

"Nothing."

Jim frowns. "I'll do anything you want."

"I just want to go to bed," Sebastian says.

"Ok. Tomorrow we'll get up and work, ok? Sound good?"

Sebastian shrugs and stands. He holds his hand out for Jim to take, so Jim takes it and lets Sebastian pull him up.

Sebastian gets into bed still in the Army pants. Jim thinks he must be incredibly uncomfortable, but he knows that Sebastian does it because he wants to be back in action, even though he never will be. Not that Jim would really ever let him, either.

They setting into the bed, and Sebastian lays on his back. He pulls Jim's arm over him, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

The next morning, they get up and get ready for their meeting. Jim gets Sebastian to shower, but when Sebastian gets out he puts the Army pants back on.

"You don't want to put something else on?"

Sebastian just looks at him with sad eyes.

"No, ok. That's ok."

They walk down the street and a few people stare at Sebastian's trousers. He doesn't do anything when he notices, and Jim just grabs his hand and pulls him down the street.

Jim tells Sebastian to wait downstairs during the meeting, feeling as though he's in no shape to deal with a client, so Sebastian sits in the waiting room and slumps in his chair.

"I'll be right back," Jim says.

Sebastian nods and Jim leaves.

Sebastian quickly grows bored. He wants to check if Jim will be done soon, but he decides instead to leave.

Jim gets back downstairs and finds that Sebastian is gone. For a second, he panics, so he calls Sebastian, but Sebastian doesn't answer. Jim rushes into the street and begins walking towards home, still calling Sebastian along the way.

He really starts to panic, then he remembers Sebastian's favorite place: the shark tanks at the zoo. He gets a cab and goes to the zoo, then rushes straight over to the aquarium.

There, he sees Sebastian sitting on the floor staring at the tank. Jim walks over and sits next to him.

"I found you," Jim says.

Sebastian nods.

"Are you ok?"

Sebastian shrugs.

"Do you want to go home? Change out of your Army trousers?"

Sebastian shakes his head.

Jim pats his leg. "I love you."

Sebastian looks at him. "Yeah?"

Jim nods.

"Why?"

"Because you're amazing," Jim says. "You're smart, and strong, and so good at your job, and you're really sexy."

Sebastian cracks a smile.

"I saw that smile," Jim says. "Come on, let's go home. We'll get you a shower and some new clothes."

Sebastian nods and begins to stand. Jim stands quicker and pulls Sebastian up. They quickly hug and leave the aquarium.

They get home and Sebastian takes his Army pants off and puts them back into his closet. They don't make a return to their lives for many months after, and for that, Jim is happy.

_***Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I've been focusing more on my other story, **_**Being 16 **_**(check it out!) but I hope you like this. **_**SarahCat1717 **_**recommended uniforms and uhm Yeah this isn't exactly what we discussed, and for that I'm sorry! Anyway, please review! This is what? Chapter 99? Chapter 100 prompts are sooooooo welcome! Please! Something epic! **_


	100. Chapter 100

_***Hello! Thank you for waiting patiently for the 100**__**th**__** chapter. When you read this, you will understand. This is only couple 1, couples 2 and 3 will come at a later date to prolong the 100**__**th**__** chapter celebrations. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much!**_

* * *

><p>Exactly three weeks ago, Gregory Lestrade decided he wanted to try skiing for the first time. His partner, who is an avid skier and had been since childhood, agreed.<p>

Two weeks and six days ago, Gregory Lestrade stepped out onto a ski slope for the very first time.

Two weeks and five days ago, Gregory Lestrade broke his leg.

"This is bullshit," Gregory Lestrade says from his wheelchair for the second week and fourth day in a row.

For the second week and third day in a row, Mycroft Holmes, said partner, sighs. The first day he felt sorry for Greg, he wanted to take back the ski trip, pamper Greg, generally make him feel better. That attitude would probably still be around had Greg not bitched that entire first day. After that, Mycroft no longer felt sorry, he no longer wanted to pamper Greg.

"It's not fair that you get to go to work and I can't."

Mycroft sighs again. "There is no way you could do your job in a wheelchair."

"I could do paperwork."

"Your office is not handicap accessible."

Greg groans. "I hate this!"

"Soon, they'll take your cast off and put you in one of those boots. And then you can walk around and go back to work. Alright? For now, you need to relax, take it easy, and stop whining."

Greg glares at him.

Mycroft glares back.

Greg backs his chair out of the bathroom and goes to the sitting room.

Mycroft goes to work, and Greg quickly grows bored. There isn't much he can do in the chair; it's not like he can even clean or go grocery shopping or _shower _without help. He watches telly for a while, but that is far too boring for his existence. He decides to go his bedroom and rummage around the things he can reach easily.

For hours he goes through their closets, drawers, even under the bed (as best he can). The last place he searches is his own closet, and he finds a box of old police things he'd procured over the years.

He takes the box into the living room and places it on the coffee table, then begins pulling things out.

Expected items are in the box, like his first uniform and badge. He pulls them out first and touches them lightly, remembering how proud he was the first time he received them. He smiles fondly down at the items, then sets them aside to continue through.

For an hour, he goes through the box, finding hand cuffs, badges, a box of bullets that he hasn't needed for years, and finally a pair of binoculars. He decides the binoculars are by far the most entertaining, so he takes them to the window and helps them adjust.

The sitting room window looks out onto the street, overlooking the restaurant on the ground level of their building and the shops on the other side of the street. Their street is very busy, a very new part of town with expensive clothing stores and restaurants, so there are a lot of people walking on the street below.

Greg envies them.

He watches the people below for a while, then grows bored with them. He thinks about the other windows in the flat, and decides the view from the spare room would be the most interesting. That window is against an alley, and it looks through to the building behind them. Greg wheels himself to the spare room to take a look.

Not many people across the way have their shutters open, but since it's a nice, sunny day, a fair few do. Greg starts at the top and works his way down, pausing at each flat whose shutters are open.

A tinge of guilt seeps through him as he scans the building, but he justifies it with being a cop and wanting to make sure his neighbors are safe.

And they are safe. In one flat, a mother and daughter dance around while doing chores. In another, a man sits alone watching telly. In a different one, a young girl stretches and begins dancing gracefully around her living room. Greg watches her for a while, then moves on to the next flat.

The flat that makes Greg smile the most is one below and to the left of his. Inside, a nice, young gay couple chats over their lunch. They make Greg the happiest because he thinks of himself and Mycroft, but he just as quickly grows to miss Mycroft. He never thinks about Mycroft much during the day, but that's usually because he's got a murder to solve. Lately, he's had a lot of down time to miss his boyfriend.

Greg watches the couple for a while. They talk and laugh, they hug, they kiss, they appear to joke with each other, and eventually one grabs his suitcase and leaves the flat, kissing the other goodbye in a sweet way. The other, who Greg has decided to call _The Brunette _sadly sits on the sofa by himself once _The Blond _leaves.

After that, Greg decides to give the binoculars a rest, so he sets them down and goes to his bed to get some rest of his own.

The next day, Greg sits bored trying to find something to consume his time. Again, he can't clean, he can't shop, he can't do anything, so for the second day he takes out his binoculars to check up on his neighbors.

He accounts for everyone, and again his gaze pauses at the couple across the way. Only, today The Brunette is alone. He's sitting on the sofa alone, his large frame seeming much smaller without The Blond.

Greg peers at everyone for a while, then leaves to get a sandwich. When he's finished, he goes back to the window without realizing that he really, really wants to watch his neighbors.

He goes back and checks on The Brunette, and this time he sees The Brunette angrily hacking away at a frozen chicken.

Greg sees The Blond enter his home before The Brunette notices him. The Blond is wearing yesterday's suit, and once The Brunette spots him and begins shouting, Greg puts two-and-two together and realizes The Blond never went home that night.

Of course Greg can't hear them, he doesn't know what they're saying, but The Brunette is angry. He sets his knife down (Greg mentally sighs) and steps towards The Blond as he yells. The Blond holds his hands up, no doubt trying to reason with The Brunette, but The Brunette is having none of it. He towers over The Blond, seeming bigger because he's yelling.

The Blond finally throws his hands up in the air and no doubt forfeits the fight, but The Brunette charges him. Greg gasps when The Brunette grabs the smaller man, pushing him around until The Blond stumbles against the coffee table.

The Blond shuffles backwards, trying to get away from The Brunette, and Greg quickly grows concerned. The Blond looks scared, so Greg takes his phone out to call the police. But The Brunette stops, his chest heaving with deep breathes. His expression doesn't change, but he backs away to the next room, where Greg loses visual of him. The Blond takes a deep breath too, following The Brunette.

Greg assumes they've made up, because the next day he sees them act the same as the first day. They hug and kiss, they laugh and smile, and when it comes time for The Blond to leave, The Brunette begs him not to. The Blond leaves, though, and The Brunette carries on as he did the first day.

The next day, Greg checks up on the couple again. He watches them have breakfast and do the dishes, then he watches The Blond flop down on the sofa to watch telly. The Brunette goes back to the next room, but minutes later he returns holding a white shirt.

Greg watches curiously as The Brunette holds the shirt up and begins shouting. The Blond sits up straight on the sofa, no doubt defending himself, but The Brunette appears to have none of it. He holds the shirt by the collar, pointing at what Greg can make out as a lipstick smudge.

"Ahh, man…" Greg mutters to himself as he watches.

The Blond stands and shouts back, getting into The Brunette's face and not backing down. And suddenly, The Brunette strikes, slapping The Blond across the face.

Greg gasps. Domestic violence is a crime, so he takes his phone out to report, but he stops when The Brunette grabs The Blond and pulls him close. The Blond pushes him away though, holding his cheek and shouting.

The Brunette grows angry again, and they begin shoving each other. Their shouting continues, too, and soon The Blond punches The Brunette in the face. Later, Greg will wonder why he _didn't _all the police, but for now he is in a trance watching the two men fight.

Eventually, The Blond backs away and stomps into the next room, but The Brunette follows. Greg loses visual, but he follows where the men disappear to with his binoculars, hoping maybe one would open a window. He keeps his gaze on the window to the next room, and after a minute he sees one of them being pushed against it. Greg gasps, holding his breath when the body against the shutters doesn't move, but in seconds the body slides down, ruffling the shutters as it goes.

Greg sets the binoculars down and takes a deep breath, trying to gain his thoughts as he reaches for his phone. He gets the emergency number dialed, and is about to click send, when The Brunette returns to the sitting room.

Greg picks up his binoculars again and sees The Brunette pacing back and forth. Greg can tell he's crying, and he nervously runs his hands through his hair. The Brunette quickly pulls his hands away from his head, holding both hands in front of his face and breathing deeply as he stares at his palms. He rushes over to the kitchen sink, then scrubs his hands for nearly five minutes. Greg sees steam rising.

The Brunette rushes back to the next room and stays for a while, so Greg decides to call the police then. Actually, he calls Sally rather than the actual police.

"Donovan," she answers in a matter of rings.

"Donovan!" Greg frantically shouts. "Get over here, quick!"

"Do you need help peeing again, sir? Because last time, I—"

"No, no! I think I've just witnessed a murder!"

"A murder?" Sally questions. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a cold blooded, caught red handed murder! Get over here, quick!"

"Should I bring the force, or—"

Greg thinks about it. "No. Come alone."

Sally agrees and hangs up.

She arrives ten minutes later, looking concerned. "What happened?"

"I…I don't know…they were arguing…and then—"

"Who, sir?"

"The Blond and Brunette across the way!"

Sally looks confused. "Uhm…"

"This way!"

Greg leads her into the spare room, then hands her the binoculars. "There, that flat," he points to the flat in question. "That's The Brunette. Him and The Blond got in a fight, then they went into the next room and I saw The Blond's body get pushed into the window, then slowly slide down it. The way a dead body would."

Sally gazes at The Brunette for a second, then quickly pulls the binoculars away. "You've been spying on your neighbors?"

"I'm bored, ok?!"

Sally rolls her eyes and looks back across the street. "He's gone," she announces.

Greg grabs the binoculars from her. "He must be cleaning up the evidence."

Sally continues looking across the way, growing less concerned when The Brunette returns, closes the sitting room shutters, and turns on the telly.

Just then, Greg hears the front door open and close. "Gregory?" he hears. "Where are you?"

"In here!" Greg calls.

Mycroft appears in the doorway in seconds. "Oh, Ms. Donovan, I didn't expect to see you here."

Greg turns to him before Sally can answer. "I'm glad you're here, Myc," he says, "I've witnessed a murder."

Sally sighs.

"What?!" Mycroft questions.

"The Brunette killed The Blond!"

Mycroft looks confused.

Sally decides to translate. "The couple across the way, Greg saw them fight, and now he's convinced The Brunette killed his boyfriend, or husband, or whatever. The Blond."

Mycroft's expression doesn't change. "What do you mean, you saw them fight? How?"

Sally takes the binoculars from Greg and holds them up.

Mycroft sighs. "Gregory…"

"I'm so bored, Myc! I was only checking up on them. And then…I saw—"

Mycroft stops him. "I'm sure your imagination is getting the best of you, Gregory. There is no way that man killed his boyfriend."

"No way, Mycroft? _No way_? Just last month, we had a husband murder his wife over sheets, Mycroft. As in _bed sheets_. Nothing in my line of work is impossible."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with him on that one, Mr. Holmes," Sally says. "However, I do not believe that man killed his boyfriend."

"Just go over there and check."

Sally looks confused. "What?"

"Just say…say you got a complaint of them fighting too loudly, and ask to look around. Tell him it's standard procedure."

Sally sighs. "Would it really make you feel better if I did?"

Greg nods. "Take Mycroft with you."

Mycroft shakes his head. "No way. This will not involve me."

Greg looks at Sally again. "Please?"

Sally rolls her eyes. "Fine. I'll be right back."

Sally leaves the room, then the flat, and Mycroft just glares at Greg.

"What?!"

"I can't believe you were spying on the neighbors."

"I wasn't spying!" Greg defends.

Mycroft sighs and leaves the room, and Greg follows as quickly as his wheelchair would permit.

They discuss the spying for a while, and finally Sally returns.

"So?" Greg asks as she enters the flat.

"There was no body," she says. "No blood, no signs of foul play, nothing."

Greg looks confused. "Then where did…"

"He closed the shutters, Greg. Perhaps The Blond snuck out when we couldn't see. The Brunette, whose name is Lars Thorwald by the way, said The Blond, whose name is Tom Doyle, left after the fought. He apologized and let me look around the entire place."

"And you didn't see anything? Where did he say The Blond went?"

"_Lars _said _Tom _left to stay somewhere else. He said they had a dispute over Tom's habits to stay out late, and he kicked Tom out."

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"It makes perfect sense!" Mycroft cries.

Greg ignores him. "Alright, think real hard. Did you check in the closet?"

Sally nods.

"Luggage? Was there a suitcase?"

"There was one."

"So," Mycroft says, "We can assume they each had their own luggage. Tom took his own."

Greg ignores him again. "Coats on the rack? The Blond wore a long brown one for the past few days—"

"You've been watching them for that long?!" Mycroft shouts.

He goes ignored. "Was it on the rack?"

Sally slowly nods. "But that could mean anything. He could have had two coats. I "

Greg shakes his head. "No, no, no."

Mycroft takes a deep breath and sits across from Greg. He looks Greg in the eye and says, "Tell me exactly what you saw and what you think it means."

Greg nods. "A few days ago, I saw The Blond and Brunette fighting because the night before, The Blond didn't make it home. The Brunette pushed him, but they quickly stopped the argument because of that. Two days later, today, I saw The Brunette freak out over a stain on The Blond's shirt. Their fight turned rough, they started hitting each other, and eventually The Blond stormed off into the next room. The Brunette followed, and a minute later I saw a body pressed against the window shutters, then slide down as if…as if lifeless. And what I think that means, my love, is that Mr. Thorwald killed Mr. Doyle."

Mycroft and Sally both take in the information.

"I can't arrest him without proof, sir," Sally says. "I admit, it does have a mysterious sound. But it could be any number of things for the boyfriend disappearing. Murder is the least part."

Greg sighs. "I know."

"And I'm absolutely sure there's a logical explanation," Mycroft says. "You're bored. You haven't had to solve a murder in weeks, and your mind is playing tricks on you."

"It wasn't a trick, Myc. I saw—"

"You saw nothing," Mycroft says.

Greg slumps in his chair.

"Alright?"

Greg slowly nods.

Mycroft stands and turns to Sally. "Ms. Donovan, thank you so much for your assistance."

Sally nods. "Anytime. Mr. Holmes, sir." She goes to the front door and shows herself out.

Once Sally is gone again, Mycroft turns to Greg. "You need to relax."

Greg sighs. "I know. I just—"

"I know. But give it a rest. Stop spying on the neighbors."

Greg nods. "Alright."

Mycroft kisses his head. "Dinner?"

Greg nods and follows Mycroft to the kitchen.

Greg has trouble sleeping that night. As soon as Mycroft is asleep, Greg gets back in his chair and back to the window. He looks across to The Brunette's apartment, and can see nothing. It's dark, and the shutter's are closed, so Greg is about to call it a night, but he sees the second room's light turn on. By this, he can see The Brunette's shadow, so he stays up and watches.

Soon, the sitting room lights turn on as well, and The Brunette travels between the two rooms. He rummages around a bit in the second room, then quickly goes to the sitting room, then back to the second room, and so on so many times Greg can't count.

Finally, around three in the morning, the lights shut off and Greg goes to bed. But not before he notices The Brunette carrying some large things into the sitting room from the second room. Greg can't make out what they are, but he thinks they look like full garbage bags.

The next morning, he tells Mycroft about it.

"He just kept going back and forth between each room. And I swear, the last time he was carrying garbage bags. _Full _garbage bags."

Mycroft sighs and rolls his eyes. "This needs to stop, Gregory. I'm serious."

"And _I'm _serious, Mycroft! That man killed his boyfriend!"

"No, he didn't. They had a fight, the boyfriend left. If you ask me, it was perfectly logical."

"And you're saying you wouldn't want to kill me if I cheated on you?"

Mycroft chuckles a bit. "Well, sure, but I wouldn't. I would, however, kick you out. Which is what Lars did to Tom."

Greg shakes his head. "No. Tom is dead."

"And how are you going to prove this?"

"I just will, ok?"

Mycroft goes to work, leaving Greg alone with his binoculars. He decides to check up on The Brunette, but the shutters are still closed and he can't see any shadows. He decides to take a break, but he goes back hours later, and this time, the shutters are open.

Greg excitedly watches. The Brunette isn't there, but Greg notices the large garbage bags by the door. Greg wishes so badly that he could go over there, but of course he can't. So he waits for The Brunette to return.

The Brunette comes back hours later, and after (Greg assumes) taking a shower and changing his clothes, he disappears again, this time with the garbage bags.

Greg scrambles for his phone, calling Sally first.

"Donovan."

"Donovan! Last night, he packed the body in garbage bags, and he just left with them!"

Sally sighs. "What?"

"I saw The Brunette pack the body last night."

"You _saw _this?"

"Well…no…"

"Lestrade…"

"I'm serious! He chopped The Blond up into tiny pieces and it disposing of him!"

"Sir! I highly doubt that!"

"You haven't seen what I've seen!"

"You haven't seen anything!"

Greg takes a deep breath. "Look—"

"Sir, call me if you actually see something."

Greg nods, though Sally can't see him.

"Ok?"

"Alright."

Sally hangs up and Greg decides to give it a rest. For a while, at least.

He starts up again when Mycroft gets home.

"Invite him out for a drink so Sally can sneak into his apartment."

Mycroft laughs out loud. "Gregory, that is absurd."

"Please, Myc? I'm serious. I think he killed The Blond. We need proof."

"Me going on a date with him is not going to get you that proof."

"It will buy us time."

Mycroft sighs. "Would this really make you feel better?"

Greg nods.

"Fine. I'll make up some excuse, and I'll go invite him for a date. Alright?"

Greg nods again. "Thank you." Mycroft is about to leave the room to dress for the occasion, when Greg stops him. "Would you fix me a sandwich, please?"

"Yes, I will," Mycroft says, "And I'll spread a little common sense on the bread."

Greg smiles and Mycroft leaves.

Sally arrives at the Lestrade-Holmes household as Mycroft is about to leave to invite The Brunette to dinner. They agreed on the excuse that Mycroft is new to the building and he wants to meet people, and that will buy Sally enough time to sneak in and gather evidence. Greg is to sit and watch Sally, and wait for in case The Brunette decides to return home early.

Mycroft leaves, and Sally and Greg watch from across the way.

"Do you really think he killed The Blond?" Sally asks.

Greg nods. "Yes."

Sally nods too, and when they see The Brunette answer the door, they quiet down and watch. The Brunette invites him in, and Mycroft looks around the flat smiling.

"Any idea what he's saying?" Sally asks.

"He's commenting on the decorating," Greg says, "He always does in a new flat."

Sally chuckles.

Finally, The Brunette grabs his coat and the two men leave. Greg rushes Sally out of the flat, and minute later he sees her arrive across the way.

She takes her phone out and calls Greg so they can talk the whole time.

"Where should I search first?" Sally asks.

"This is your _job, _Donovan. Gather evidence! The whole place must be knee-deep in evidence."

Sally sighs. "Well, what do you want? Finger prints? Stains? A magic lamp that will tell us our true destiny?"

"One thing I don't need is heckling. You know that by tomorrow morning there may not be evidence in that flat."

"A detective's worst nightmare," she mutters. "Can you notice anything different about the flat?"

Greg really looks around. "No. Everything looks the same as it did a few days ago."

Sally decides to go back to the second room. When she gets there, she says it's their bedroom. "There's a bathroom to the west, and the closet to the north." She opens the shutter to the window Greg said the body was pressed against.

"Alright. Look around. Anything different from when you were in there? Blood stains? Intense smell of cleaning supplies?"

"No and no. Nothing out of place." Greg watches Sally go to the closet. "Except…" she mutters.

"What, what?!"

"Missing clothes. Perhaps The Blond's."

"Why would he get rid of The Blond's clothes?"

"Maybe The Blond packed up. You think maybe the shadow you saw was him?"

"No, definitely not."

Sally sighs.

"What else?"

"That's really it. No blood, no bleach, just missing clothes."

Just then, Greg's phone vibrates with a text. He tells Sally to hold and checks it.

It's from Mycroft:

_**He says Tom picked up his things and left. Nothing to worry about. **_

"Mycroft says he said Tom picked up his things. I still don't believe him," Greg says.

"Sorry, boss. I don't know what to tell you."

Greg sighs, and he receives another message. It's time stamped for five minutes ago, and he figures his phone lagged because of the call. The message is from Mycroft and it says they're going up to Thorwald's flat.

"Oh god, Sally, get out of there!" Greg says, knowing Mycroft only took the man to a restaurant across the street.

"Sshhh…" Sally whispers. "They're coming. Keep quiet."

Sally hides in the bedroom, under the bed. Greg keeps watch, and a second later, Mycroft and The Brunette enter the house.

The Brunette says something to Mycroft, and Mycroft nods and smiles. The Brunette then goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. He retrieves a glass from the shelf, and as his back is turned Mycroft looks across the way at Greg. He motions that he's going to look around, then just on time looks away from Greg.

Greg watches as Mycroft wanders the room and looks around, commenting on things. This continues for nearly ten minutes, Greg chancing telling Sally that they're in the sitting room and to hang tight. He sends Mycroft a text to let him know Sally is there, and he sees Mycroft check it quickly. He glances through the window at Greg, then joins conversation with The Brunette again.

Mycroft gets up when his glass is empty and goes to the kitchen island. Greg sees him say something, then The Brunette jump up to stop Mycroft. Mycroft bends to where Greg assumes is the dishwasher, then The Brunette darts at him.

"Oh, god!" Greg shouts.

"What?" Sally whispers.

Greg can't answer, he just watches as Mycroft slowly backs away from the dishwasher and The Brunette follows.

Greg can read enough lips to read Mycroft saying, "You _did _kill him!" and The Brunette reply, "…kill you, too!"

The Brunette follows Mycroft around the island, pausing at the dishwasher and pulling out a bloody knife.

"Sally! Get out there!" Greg shouts.

He keeps an eye on Mycroft, backing to the door, and in seconds Sally bursts through the bedroom door holding her gun up.

"Freeze!" Greg reads, and The Brunette instantly pauses.

The Brunette slowly turns around and holds his hands up in a surrender position. He drops the knife and Sally rushes to him, pulling his arms behind his back to arrest him. Sally hangs up on Greg, and Greg assumes she calls for backup.

Mycroft gets home twenty minutes later, along with Sally for official statements. Greg is fined a thousand pounds for spying on his neighbors, but he willingly accepts that after fearing for Mycroft's life.

They go to bed right after Sally leaves. Greg lays on his back, the only comfortable position for him, and Mycroft wraps around him.

"Right after Sally arrested him, he confessed to murder. He confessed that Tom Doyle was in those garbage bags, and that his body is now at the bottom of the Serpentine."

Greg pulls him close. "I'm sorry I pulled you into this. For putting you in danger like that."

"I'm sorry for doubting you," Mycroft says. "I should have listened."

Greg shakes his head. "I probably wouldn't have listened either."

Mycroft looks up at Greg. "I'm still sorry."

Greg kisses his head. "It's ok. I'm just glad my job is done. I did get to solve a murder while on leave."

"Yes, and it wasn't even your own."

Greg stares at him. "What does that mean?"

Mycroft chuckles. "Nothing, never mind."

After a few minutes of silence, Greg asks, "Who am I to spy on now?"

"Nobody, I hid your binoculars."

Greg smiles. "No fun."

"I'm not going through this again."

Greg squeezes him tight. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

><p><em><strong>*This chapter is kind of a cross over with one of my favorite movies, Rear Window. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend it. It's an old film and it was directed by Alfred Hitchcock, and it's amazing. If you have seen it and catch any of the lines I put into this, pat yourself on the back! If not, I still hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading! Please review! <strong>_


	101. Chapter 101

**_A/N: The long wait is over! I'm so sorry how overdue this is. I wrote an entire 90+ chapter between (check out _****Being 16!****_) among other things (check out _****Meant to Be!****_). I really hope you all enjoy this. It's very loosely based on _****Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch a Thief****_, and it's actually an AU of Jim and Sebastian meeting differently than the rest of the story. It took me longer than usual writing this, and it's 5,000+ words, so I really hope it does not disappoint. Enjoy. Please review. I promise to work harder on the Johnlock 100_****_th_****_ chapter._**

* * *

><p>"Mister Moran, you have the right to remain silent."<p>

Sebastian doesn't fight. After all, it's about time he gets caught.

As he's slowly pulled down the stairs of his dinky building, onto the street with the many flashing lights and slow forming crowd, he can't help but wonder what got him, though. Was it the Hudson kill last week? Was it that banker who needed his wife gone last Monday? He remembers being as careful as possible, he's pretty sure he cleaned up. Apparently, not enough.

He silently watches the city move beside him as he rides to the police station. He mentally notes not to talk. This isn't the first time he's been arrested, and if he gets off it won't be the last.

Oddly enough, he hopes it's not his last.

He takes a seat in the interrogation room. He doesn't speak but to demand a lawyer. He's obviously not going to fess up to anything. Not yet.

The detective finally returns and sits across the table from Sebastian.

"Do you know why you're here, Mister Moran?"

Sebastian shakes his head.

The detective tosses a file folder onto the table. It lands open, revealing a photo of a dead body.

Sebastian knows immediately that it's not his M.O., and he sighs with relief. This body, and the eleven photos after, have knife wounds. Never in his life has he killed anyone with a knife, nor would he ever. Knives, obviously, get you caught.

"What?" Sebastian coolly starts, "You think I did this?"

"We know you were accused of murder two years ago."

"And? When and where did this even take place?"

The detective points to one. "Angela Brown. Tuesday evening, 10 PM."

"My sister has been visiting since Monday. I took her to a play."

"A play? Which one?"

"The Lion King," Sebastian says. He's surprisingly telling the truth. Sienna and Logan are visiting from London for two more days and Logan _needed _to see The Lion King. "I'm sure you can check security tapes of the Minskoff Theatre. I even have the ticket stub in my wallet."

The detective eyes him. "We will do just that, Mister Moran."

"Can I go now?"

The detective packs the file and says Sebastian will be escorted out shortly, then leaves. Sebastian sits tight and waits.

* * *

><p>Of course Sebastian's instinct is to flee. He packs the necessities (guns and clothes) and thinks to call his ex-partner, Warner Marshall. Marshall is still located in England, where he needs to go.<p>

But first he calls Sienna.

"Seb, it's nearly midnight, what are you—"

"Si, something came up. I need to go to England for a few days."

"What? So suddenly."

"I was just called. I'm going to the airport now. Tell the kid I'm sorry, ok?"

"Ok…" Sienna sounds skeptical. "Are you ok, Seb?"

"Yeah, fine. Work stuff, ok? Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

"Ok. Maybe visit if you're in town when Logan and I get home, yeah?"

"Of course," Sebastian answers. "Love you, sis."

"Love you too, brother."

Sebastian hangs up with her and immediately calls Marshall.

"Marshall." He answers.

"Warner, it's Moran."

"Well what'd'ya know?"

"I need some help."

"Didn't think you were calling for personal matters."

Sebastian tells Warner everything that's happened in the last few hours and Marshall reveals that the same thing happened to him only a month ago, only in England. It was the same style of murder that Sebastian is currently being accused of, so Warner suggests Sebastian join him in England so they can solve these murders together.

Warner calls in a favor from the guy who got him out of the country, so within an hour Sebastian is in flight above the Atlantic Ocean. He mourns, wishing he didn't need to return to England, but he'd rather not be in prison for murder. He gladly gets on the plane and watches New York City disappear behind him.

He arrives at Warner's house the next afternoon. Warner is happy to see him, or else he pretends to be. He and Sebastian didn't end on the best terms last time they saw each other, but now they've got a common interest, and that's enough to be the best of friends.

They get to work immediately. By the time Sebastian arrives, Warner's already compiled a list of fellow assassins they could find in the city. Their plan is to befriend based on their common profession, and if they find out this person isn't a killer, warn them. If they are the killer in question, their plan is to set them up or turn them in.

There's a dozen killers on their list, so they split the list and plan to find their six within the next few days.

Sebastian has no idea where to start. Warner says he's going to find the first on his list, but Sebastian isn't as keen on finding his. The part of town this guy lives in is nice, much nicer than Sebastian used to live here. This makes him nervous, for he doesn't want to be dealing with some pompous jerk.

Nonetheless, he begins walking, and before he knows it he's in front of the first suspect's house.

He decides not to be too straight forward. He doesn't want to just ring the doorbell and say, 'Hey, are you the actual murderer of the bodies I was accused to killing?' Of course that's not good.

So instead, he decides to stalk the guy.

He waits outside the house for only half an hour before the guy emerges. Immediately Sebastian knows this isn't a guy he wants to get to know, but he follows the guy anyway.

They walk for a few blocks, every once in a while pausing to look in a shop window or buy a cup of coffee. He doesn't do anything suspicious at all, and Sebastian is quickly bored and not optimistic that this is their killer.

Luckily for Sebastian, the man goes into a nice restaurant and takes a seat at the bar. Sebastian sits a few tables away, still in view of the guy.

He watches the guy at the bar, seeing him flash all of his teeth at the bar tender as he orders. The bartender warmly smiles back, then he leaves to make the guy's drink.

Five minutes later, Sebastian is kicked out of his own thoughts by the waitress smiling above him. Of course, he happily smiles back.

She sets a drink on his table.

"Oh, I didn't order this—"

"It's from the man right over there," she says, pointing to the man Sebastian's been following for the past half an hour. "He sent this, too."

She hands him a small piece of paper, then leaves.

He skeptically opens the note and doesn't sip his drink. If it's one thing he's learned from being a killer (and really, something everyone should know) it's not to take drinks from strangers.

_"Your drink is safe to drink," _the note reads. Sebastian can't help but chuckle. _"Come say hello. Don't be shy, Mister Moran."_

Sebastian doesn't feel nervous, he doesn't even question how this man knows who he is. He knew the name and face of a fourth of the men on the list, so he just assumes it's a profession thing.

He downs the drink, proving to the man that he trusts him (thus ensuring his life for at least a while longer), then goes over to the bar.

The man doesn't even look at him before he says, "It's nice to meet you, Mister Moran."

"Mister Moriarty," Sebastian replies, waving to the bartender for another drink.

"Please," Moriarty says, "Call me Jim."

Sebastian nods as the bartender sets his drink down.

"I'm not the killer you're looking for," Jim tells him.

"How do you know that's why I'm here?"

"A bit obvious, don't you think? You were accused of murder yesterday. Today you're here."

"How do you—"

"Mister Moran, if you want to continue sitting here, I suggest you stop asking how I know things."

Sebastian nods in assent. "Ok," he says, "Then tell me why I should believe you're not who I'm looking for."

"Because if I was," Jim says, "You'd be dead."

Sebastian cracks a smile. For the first time, Jim looks at him.

"Give me your list," Jim demands.

Sebastian hands it over.

They discuss the list for a while, Jim telling Sebastian everything he knows about the men (and one woman). He tells Sebastian that one of them is out of the business, currently residing somewhere in South America, so that takes two (including Jim) of the suspects off the list.

"Thanks," Sebastian says, folding the list back up and downing his third drink. "I can take it from here, then."

Jim chuckles. "I think not. Your solution to finding these men is to stalk them. I'm helping you."

"I don't need any help," Sebastian says, "I like to work alone."

"You're going to end up killed."

Sebastian eyes him. "We've met this evening, why do you care so much?"

Jim shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. "It'd be a shame to lose such a handsome face."

Sebastian pauses, feeling himself blush. He doesn't quite know how to feel, so he doesn't address it. "Fine. But I'm in charge."

Jim laughs loudly. "You can think that."

* * *

><p>Jim sets Sebastian up in a nice hotel and tells him they'll speak tomorrow. Sebastian goes up and doesn't even think about the fact that Jim doesn't know what room he's in or his mobile number, but the next morning he gets a call.<p>

"Moran," Jim says instead of a 'hello' or 'good morning'. "Your woman's on the move."

Sebastian gets up and meets Jim at the café down the street. Jim gives him a round trip plane ticket to Paris and instructions on how to get close to her. She's a femme fatale, so he warns Sebastian to be careful how close to her he gets.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Sebastian's on the plane with this woman and quickly finding that he wants to take the chance of being killed to be with her. Her name is Jasmine Robyn, and she is gorgeous. Sebastian thinks that if he had what she has, he'd flaunt it too.<p>

He chats her up easily. They talk about why they're heading to Paris (business trips), about their constant travelling being an issue for relationships, and eventually he ends up sitting on the very small restroom toilet while she hikes her skirt up to ride him. He takes it as a good sign that he doesn't die while they're in that restroom, though he does learn solid proof that she's not their killer. Her last travel dates conflict with the murders in New York; she was in Australia for an entire month.

They part at the airport and don't look back. Sebastian waits around for his flight back to England.

* * *

><p>At midnight his flight gets in, and Jim picks him up for the airport.<p>

"She wasn't our killer?" Jim asks over a late dinner.

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

"Well, like you, she didn't kill me."

"I don't—"

"She kills people while they're in very compromising positions. I am still alive, therefore she isn't our killer."

"I still don't—" Jim pauses. "You fucked our suspect?"

Sebastian grins and shrugs.

Jim sighs. "That's very bad for business, Moran."

"Why? She liked it. And I certainly liked it."

"Just don't sleep with anymore suspects. Got it?"

Sebastian smiles. "Got it."

* * *

><p>The next day, Sebastian gets in touch with Marshall to discuss their lists. Sebastian reveals that three on his list are already clear, and Marshall reveals he's ruled out two and is skeptical about one. They agree to meet up in a few days to look over things further, then Sebastian hangs up the phone.<p>

Not an hour later, Jim calls to let him know there was another body found in New York. The same M.O., the same type of location as the others, the same everything. Sebastian knows by now that they _really _need to find this killer.

* * *

><p>Jim decides to take the meeting of the next suspect, so he lets Sebastian into his flat to actually be able to cook a meal and watch television on a sofa.<p>

Sebastian waits around for a long time, watching all the television programs he doesn't get in New York. He drinks a few glasses of the expensive whiskey Jim has a cooks himself pasta, so all in all he's very happy with the evening.

Jim returns late. Very late. He's as prim and proper as when he left, except his tie is loose and his coat a tad disheveled.

"Late night," Sebastian observes as he leans forward to turn the television off and slip his shoes on.

"I suppose," Jim agrees. "You're welcome to stay here, if you'd like."

"Thanks," Sebastian says, taking his shoes off again. He stands and follows Jim into the kitchen, thinking to at least make Jim a cup of tea for letting him stay. "What'd you find out?" he asks as he puts the kettle on.

Jim leans against the island. "He didn't do it. Not his M.O. Said he'd never kill a man with a knife."

"What, you asked?"

Jim shrugs and pulls at his tie. "Yes."

Sebastian watches his pull the tie off. "How are you sure?"

"He told me. He likes to use revolvers. They're loud but efficient. And he says they're 'cool'."

"Damn," Sebastian mutters. "That is cool."

"Plus, he's never set foot in New York City. He even showed me his passport."

Sebastian snorts and turns around to get Jim's tea. "He just carries his passport around?"

"No," Jim replies. "It was in his underwear drawer."

Sebastian's wrist seems to give out as he's pouring Jim's tea. Water sloshes over the side and he scrambles to clean it up. His heart races and he doesn't quite know why. "So, you…"

"Slept with him? Yes."

"I thought we made a rule."

"For you, maybe."

Sebastian gets the water cleaned up and turns away from the counter to see Jim watching him.

"What?" Sebastian questions.

Jim shakes his head and takes his tea.

Sebastian leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. He watches Jim sip his tea and tries not to notice or wonder about the lip mark on Jim's lower neck. And he definitely tries not to think about why he's thinking about it.

"So," Sebastian squeaks out, "There's another crossed off the list."

"Looks like it," Jim agrees. "Two more to go. Tomorrow I'm to have lunch with the next suspect and—"

"I'll take that lunch," Sebastian offers far too eagerly.

Jim eyes him. "Why?"

"I don't know, just to get out."

Jim shakes his head and sets his tea down. "I'm perfectly capable of interviewing the next guy."

"Yeah, apparently," Sebastian sarcastically retorts.

Jim places his hands on his hips. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Sebastian says. "You get upset about me fucking one of the suspects, but you—"

"Are you upset, Moran? Jealous that I haven't tried anything with you yet?"

Sebastian snorts. "Of course not. I'm str—"

Jim takes a step closer to him; Sebastian doesn't move. "Straight? I know your type."

"Oh, really?" Sebastian turns to face Jim fully and places his hands on his hips, too. "What's my type, then?"

"Straight, but when it comes to seeking an orgasm, it doesn't really matter who's ready to supply one."

"And why do you think I'm that type?"

Jim closes the really rather short gap between them and presses his lips to Sebastian's. It's not particularly that soft a kiss, but Sebastian seems to fight back with his mouth. Sure, he kisses back, but it's bruising rather than gentle.

But Sebastian quickly pulls away, flustered that his first thought isn't that Jim is a _man _and he is _straight, _but that he doesn't want anything to do with Jim if he's still got that other guy on him. He can literally taste the other guy on Jim's lips (it's apparent that the man was wearing some sort of lipstick judging by the taste and the mark on Jim's neck). He pushes Jim away and Jim jumps.

"I'm not—" Sebastian tries.

"After that, if you say you're not gay, or something of the like, I will not hesitate to kill you."

Sebastian shakes his head. "I'm not doing anything knowing what you've already done tonight."

"Fair enough," Jim says, picking up his tea. "I'm off to bed, then. And I'm interviewing the next suspect tomorrow."

"Fine."

Jim grins at him. "And after knowing how jealous you get, I'll try to keep my hands to myself."

"I'm not jealous."

Jim rolls his eyes. "Goodnight, Moran."

"Goodnight, Jim."

Jim leans over and lightly kisses Sebastian's lips before he leaves Sebastian blushing in the kitchen.

* * *

><p>They don't talk about it the next day before Jim leaves. They talk about the suspects and that, since they're closing in on the list, this guy could be it. Sebastian reveals he's meeting with Marshall later that evening and the last suspect tomorrow.<p>

Jim's gone early for most of the morning. Sebastian takes advantage of the empty flat to use Jim's large bathtub (searching for the killer who almost got you thrown is prison is a stressful job).

He gets out and uses a large, fluffy towel to dry, then wraps it around his waist to roam the flat. He makes a sandwich and takes it to the sofa, feeling surprisingly comfortable there wearing nothing.

Sebastian flips channels before he gets to the news. It's a breaking story about a government officially being brutally stabbed in the neck only an hour ago. Sebastian checks his watch, knowing Jim left two hours ago. His thoughts are that either he's safe because the man he's meeting isn't the killer, Jim is the killer after all, or he's dead because he got in the way of the killer.

He calls Jim to make sure. And he gets very nervous when Jim doesn't answer after five rings.

Finally, he answers.

"What, Moran?"

Sebastian sighs with relief. "There's been another one. It's on the news. Are you...you know...safe?"

"Yes, Moran. I'm enjoying a lovely lunch downtown."

Sebastian nods, though Jim can't see him.

Jim doesn't say anything before he hangs up, and Sebastian watches the rest of the news story before getting dressed to meet Marshall.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Sebastian is at dinner with Marshall. He's enjoying catching up with his old friend; they're drinking beers and having laughs.<p>

When they finally get down to the details of their private investigation, Sebastian's had one too many and he feels hazy. He's not very focused on the problem at hand, he's actually thinking about getting back to Jim's flat as quickly as possible.

"So," Sebastian says, "Looks like the guy I'm meeting tomorrow is our guy. Would you agree?"

"I would agree," Marshall says. "Everyone on my list is crossed off. Do you want me to accompany you?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "I'll be fine. I'm going to get him to confess as well as I can. Maybe I'll take Jim along. He's got a way of making people talk."

"Jim?"

"Moriarty, first guy on my list."

Marshall looks skeptical. "You...befriended this guy?"

Sebastian nods and takes another drink.

"Be careful, Sebby. This guy's dangerous."

"Oh, and we're not?"

Marshall shakes his head. "He's different. Just watch your head."

"I'll take my chances," Sebastian says, taking the last of his beer. He slaps a bill on the table and stands. "Nice seeing you, Marshall. Keep in touch,"

Marshall follows him up. "And you, Moran."

They shakes hands, then Sebastian happily leaves.

* * *

><p>He's drunk and excited that the case will soon be closed. He will soon be off for murder, and he thinks about maybe returning to New York.<p>

He thinks just as quickly to stay in London. Sienna is here, and now Jim. He doesn't quite know that means, but he kind of wants to find out.

He grows more eager to get back to Jim's flat, so he practically runs down the street. But he pauses as soon as he rounds the corner; there, right in front of Jim's building, are half a dozen police cars with the lights on and a crowd forming around them.

"Oh shit, no..." Sebastian whispers, taking off towards the flat.

He pushes past the security guard, shouting that he lives there, and makes it close enough to Jim as he's being pushed to a car, his hands cuffed behind his back.

"Jim!" Sebastian shouts.

Jim finds him and looks murderous. "You set me up, Moran!"

"I didn't, Jim, I swear I-"

"After everything I've helped you with-"

Many emotions run through Sebastian as he watches Jim get pushed into the car. "I'll get you out, Jim, I promise."

Jim's about to say something when the door is slammed in his face.

Sebastian rubs his face in frustration as the car drives away. He's sure Jim didn't do it. He's positive Jim isn't the killer. He knew from their first meeting that he trusted Jim was telling the truth. Not for a moment does he even think Jim is this particular killer.

They let him in the flat for a few minutes before they begin searching it. He takes the clothes he had, plus a few suits for Jim for when Jim gets out.

After the stress of that and knowing he can't do anything to get Jim out until morning, he goes back to his hotel to rest.

* * *

><p>Visiting hours are the next morning starting at ten. Sebastian gets there right at ten, then he sets up and waits at the window to see Jim.<p>

Jim gets escorted in, and when he takes one glance at Sebastian, he asks to be taken back. The guard shakes his head and pushes Jim to his chair across from Sebastian.

Sebastian picks up the joining phone and Jim reluctantly does the same.

"What do you want Moran?"

"To talk. How…" Sebastian is hesitant. "How are you?"

Jim glares at him through the glass. "I'm great, Moran. How are you? Did you enjoy my flat last night? Use my tub again?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "They searched it last night. I had to leave. I'm having dinner with the last guy tonight. You'll be off by tomorrow."

"Why should I believe you, Moran? You lied to me, you set me up."

"No, I didn't, I swear. We're on the same side, remember?"

"Are we?"

"You know we are."

Jim shakes his head and looks away from Sebastian.

"Jim, look at me."

Jim's gaze slowly shifts to Sebastian's.

"I will get you out of here, ok?"

Jim doesn't do or say anything.

"Ok?"

Jim sighs. "Ok."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow, then. I'll buy you a drink."

"I'm going to need a gigantic drink, Moran."

Sebastian smiles.

Jim slowly smiles back.

"Ok. I'll see you later. I'm having dinner with our last guy tonight."

Jim grins. "Remember our rule, Moran."

Sebastian blushes and looks away.

"Goodbye, Moran."

"See you soon."

Jim hangs up and gets escorted away. Sebastian sits there thinking until he's asked to leave.

* * *

><p>Sebastian busies himself until it's time for his dinner. He set up a meeting with the guy, telling him he needed someone gone. He puts on one of Jim's suits and pretends to be a wealthy business man who needs his brother killed. He plans to tell the man when and where to kill him, and Sebastian will call the police claiming someone's trying to murder him.<p>

They meet and hit it off quickly. The man, John Bertani, tells Sebastian he's open for business and Sebastian tells him his problem. Over drinks they discuss pricing and technique (this man does do stabbing), and over dinner Sebastian asks him about previous kills.

"Just the other I had a kill in Switzerland," Bertani says.

Sebastian's stomach drops. 'The other day' could have been when the last kill in New York was made. This man could very well have an alibi.

"Oh?" Sebastian curiously asks. "Which day?"

"Two days ago. Just got back this morning. I tell you, in this business it's nearly never ending."

Sebastian chuckles uncomfortably, knowing now that this man didn't do it. "Sounds demanding," he says. "I'm sure you've got competition."

"Yeah, a lot actually. It's not like we have a union or anything, but we all know of each other. We admire each other's work."

Sebastian sees an opportunity to see if Bertani knows anything about the investigation he's currently working. "Ever been accuses of someone else's work."

"Oh, loads of times. Never by the police, of course, but by others."

Sebastian nods. "Heard about those murders happening all over? The, uh, government official or something just this week?"

Bertaini nods. "Oh, yeah. I know that M.O., too. He's getting sloppy."

"He? Who, if you don't mind my curiosity?"

Bertani shrugs. "Just this guy I used to know, Warner Marshall."

Sebastian chokes on the piece of bread he'd been chewing. He waves off Bertani moving to help and takes a sip of his water. "Sorry," he coughs, "Wrong tube."

Bertani chuckles.

Sebastian is about to ask more questions when his phone begins to ring. He pulls it out of his pocket and sees it's Sienna. He excuses himself to answer.

"I thought you'd say you'd visit," Sienna says after they exchange greetings.

"I will, I promise. I'm just really busy right now."

"When will you be un-busy, then?"

"Hopefully the day after tomorrow, ok? Finishing up with work now, as a matter of fact. We'll talk soon, ok?"

"Ok. Love you, brother."

"Love you too, Si."

Sebastian hangs up and returns to the table.

"I have to be honest with you now," he says as he sits. "I'm having this meeting for my brother's wife. She and I…we were supposed to…" Sebatian sighs and shakes his head. "She just called me calling it off. I guess…I guess I won't be needing your services anymore."

"Sorry to hear that," Bertani says. "If something comes up—"

"I've got your number," Sebastian says. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be home now. Sorry to waste your time, Mister Bertani."

"Not a problem, Mister Moran."

Sebastian shakes his hand and buttons his suit jacket, then leaves the restaurant.

His mind is racing as he walks down the street. He rubs his face and runs his hands through his hair, thinking about not turning his friend in. But if he doesn't turn his friend in, Jim will more than likely be convicted of these murders. He'll be in jail forever, or worse, ordered the death sentence. Marshall's been his friend for a very long time, and Jim he's known only a few days, but…

But there's something telling him that Jim is far more important.

* * *

><p>Sebastian calls Marshall as soon as he wakes up the next morning and asks to see him as soon as possible. He asks for them to speak in private, so Marshall invites him over for lunch.<p>

He arrives at Marshall's house at the designated time. He packs his gun in case anything gets out of hand, knowing now is the time to confront Marshall.

They talk for a while about everything they've found. Marshall isn't specific about details, and it's evident he didn't even interview anyone.

Finally, Sebastian's had enough with petty small talk.

"So," he starts after sipping his tea. "How was New York?"

"Oh, it was fine—" Marshall pauses, knowing he's been caught. "What are you—"

"Talking about?" Sebastian takes a deep breath and sets his cup down. "I know it's you, Marshall. My last meeting yesterday pretty much gave you up. Said you'd been sloppy, and I'd have to agree."

"I don't know what you're on about, Sebastian, but—"

"Look, we're all in this business. I know how hard it can be keeping clean sometimes. But now Moriarty is in jail for what you've done."

"And you've suddenly developed morals?" Marshall questions, beginning to get angry. "I'm not admitting anything."

"I can find proof, Marshall. Satellite phone records for just a few days ago would prove you were in New York last time we spoke."

"And what do you suppose you're going to say when you turn me in? 'I was investigating because I was accused of his murders, but I have my own to worry about.'? Is that your plan, Moran?"

Sebastian shakes his head and stands. "I won't need to. You will."

Marshall shakes his head and stands. He grabs Sebastian's empty tea cup. "Let me get you a beer, mate."

Sebastian sits back down, planning to discuss this.

He hears Marshall behind him rummaging around the kitchen. He hears the refrigerator door open, a cabinet slam shut, and a beer bottle being opened. Sebastian sits back and waits.

A second later the bottle is handed to him, so he takes it and takes a sip.

He feels something against the back of his head.

He hears the gun being cocked.

"Put the beer down and stand up."

Sebastian does as told, holding his arms above his head. "You won't kill me, Marshall."

"You want to bet that?"

Marshall shoves Sebastian so he moves through the house, down to the basement.

"Don't want to get blood on my carpet upstairs," Marshall says. "I just redid it."

"Looks great, man," Sebastian says, still being shoved along by the gun.

They get down to the basement and Sebastian knows that it's now or never to get away from Marshall. He takes many deep breathes to prepare, and as soon as Marshall tells him to get on his knees, he quickly swivels around to smack the gun out of Marshall's hand.

He quickly turns, but Marshall drops to the ground before he even hits him. He watches Marshall fall, and when he looks back up he sees Jim standing there panting while holding a cricket bat.

"Jim!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jim blows up. "Was your plan to get yourself killed?!"

"I didn't—I wasn't—" Sebastian shakes his head. "How are you here?!"

"I called in a favor from my old friend, John Bertani. He told me everything he told you, he bailed me out of jail and suggested I come to your rescue."

"Wait, old friend? You know Bertani?"

Jim nods and takes his coat off.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew him? We could've already cleared him from the list."

Jim points down at Marshall's body. "Because obviously we should trust old friends, right?"

Sebastian nods, then slowly begins to chuckle. He stumbles back and leans against the wall, rubbing his face in disbelief. "I can't believe this," he whispers. "Fuck…"

"What are we going to do now? Bury him or leave him?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Leave him. Let the police figure it all out."

Jim looks up at him. "Is that my suit?"

Sebastian smiles and suggests they get out of there.

* * *

><p>They go back to Jim's flat instead of getting a meal. They both go straight to the sofa and throw themselves down onto the cushions. They take a deep, relaxed breath, then take one glance at each other and start to laugh.<p>

"I knew you'd need saving," Jim says.

"You did not."

"I did. I knew you'd do something stupid."

"How, then?"

Jim shrugs. "You look like a man who does stupid things."

"I could have handled it."

Jim only shakes his head.

They're silent for a while, both trying to relax and wash the adrenaline from their bodies. Sebastian slumps on the sofa, his head resting on the back and allowing him to look at the ceiling, and quickly grows tired.

Jim is the first to speak. "So, I suppose you'll be going back to New York?"

Sebastian doesn't lift his head and shrugs. "I fled a murder investigation. I'm probably a wanted man."

"That's too bad," Jim says. "Fortunately, I've been looking for an employee."

Sebastian looks at him. "An employee?"

"I don't want to get my hands dirty anymore,"

"So, are you…offering?"

Jim rolls his eyes. "If you're going to be so dense all the time, I suggest you just go back to New York."

Sebastian laughs. "Fine," he says. "Looks like I'd better work on that."

Jim smiles.

Sebastian's laughter dies down and his face goes straight. "What about, uhm…what happened…"

"We kissed, Moran. If you can't even say it, it won't happen again."

"So you…you want it to happen again?"

Jim stares at him. "Do you?"

Sebastian slowly nods.

Jim smiles. "Well, then…" He slowly leans forward until Sebastian meets him in the middle.

They're about to touch, their lips are so close, they're sharing the same breath, when Jim quickly pulls away and stands.

"Too bad I made that rule about you not sleeping with any more suspects."

Sebastian's jaw drops. "Wh—Jim!"

Jim turns and walks towards his bedroom; Sebastian scrambles to follow.

"Jim!"

Jim laughs and tackles Sebastian as soon as he enters the room.

* * *

><p>Much later that evening, they're sitting on Jim's large bed eating the food they'd ordered and drinking wine to celebrate.<p>

"So, why'd you think I'd need saving?" Sebastian curiously asks.

"I already know you do stupid things, I told you."

"And why do you think I do stupid things?"

Jim stares at him. "You _stalked _me the first time we met. I could have killed you."

"Why didn't you?"

Jim shrugs and takes a sip of his wine.

"You liked me, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Moran."

"You did!" Sebastian taunts.

Jim cracks a smile. "Fine. I did. And it's worked out quite nicely, don't you think?"

Sebastian smiles and nods.

Jim leans over and kisses him slowly. "I think this partnership might work out well, don't you?" he asks when they pull away.

"I would have to agree," Sebastian says, kissing Jim again.

* * *

><p><strong>End.<strong>


	102. Chapter 102

**_A/N: Update! I don't think I've done this, I might have, but this is a World Cup themed chapter (what each couple does during the Cup.) I love football (soccer for me) so I thought this would be fun. Writing it was odd because I've written two teen!AU's (_****Being 16 _and _Meant to Be) _so I kept writing things then remembering that it happened in a different story. Odd, right? So anyway, please enjoy and please review!_**

* * *

><p><strong>Couple 1<strong>

* * *

><p>Mycroft asked only once about the upacked box that took housing in the corner of the room designated as Greg's office.<p>

"Just a box of junk that I can't find a place for," Greg had explained about its contents.

Mycroft, of course, made sure there wasn't a collection of dead things or memorabilia from crime scenes ("I don't even want to know where you're getting that idea," Greg had said), but after that he let it go.

He pretty much forgot about that box, too. Greg's space is more or less an unspoken Mycroft-Free Zone. Greg would never tell Mycroft to stay out, but Mycroft knows that the groove in his library is thrown off when Greg is inside, so he leaves Greg's office alone.

That's why he doesn't notice that the contents had been emptied until the contents started migrating out of the office.

And it didn't start slowly. It was sudden and quite frankly very loud and it looked like a novelty shop.

"Greg, what the hell is all of this?"

Greg grins widely from his spot on the sofa. He looks pleased. It makes Mycroft all the more confused.

"It's an even year, love. You can't tell me you don't know what that means."

Mycroft eyes him skeptically. "Should I?"

Greg smiles wider, if that's at all possible, and hops into a standing position.

"It's World Cup year!"

Mycroft sighs. "What?"

"Well, the Cup is every four years, but Euro's is every four in between, so _really _every two ye—"

Mycroft rubs his forehead. Football. He hates football. He's never appreciated football. He's always known Greg has liked football, he just didn't know it was this much.

It really does look like a sports shop from many of the local club teams threw up in their sitting room.

There's a British flag hanging from the ceiling, next to a flag with the national team crest and a flag that commemorates their last title, which was the year Greg was born.

There's a throw blanket with the crest of the English National Team resting on the back of the sofa, along with two throw pillows resting against the arms. One says "Gerrard" and one says "Rooney".

There are figurines on the coffee table, along with crest-decorated coasters and even the glass Greg's drinking from has a crest on it.

There are cheer pom-poms, which Mycroft hopes were once Greg's daughters.

There are knickknacks everywhere, everything is covered in blue or red or white.

Mycroft's gaze falls back to Greg.

"This was the junk in the box, wasn't it?"

Greg nods, still looking triumphant.

Mycroft rubs his eyes.

"I'll take it all down," Greg says, sounding disappointed. Clearly he can read in Mycroft's body language that Mycroft doesn't like it.

Mycroft sighs, defeated. Greg's tone is a tone that he never wishes to pull from his love, not even if Mycroft is telling Greg a tale of something someone else did.

"How long does this last?" Mycroft asks.

"A month. And this year it _will _be a month because we're going all the way."

Mycroft shakes his head, in disbelief that he's actually going to say this.

"Fine," he finally says. "Fine, you can leave it.

Greg punches the air in excitement. "Thank you, thank you!" he cries, stepping around the coffee table to take Mycroft in a tight embrace. He kisses Mycroft's cheek over and over.

Mycroft cracks a smile, loving seeing Greg this happy.

When Greg finally pulls away, Mycroft runs a hand through his hair. "Goodness, all of this color is making me dizzy. I need a drink."

"Ahh," Greg stops him. "Allow me."

Greg goes over to the drinks trolley and pours, stirs, then licks the stir stick and smiles. He takes the glass over to Mycroft and Mycroft sees why he was smiling so widely.

"Good god, has this junk taken over my entire home?" Mycroft asks, peering at the English crest on the glass he's about to drink from.

Greg just smiles. "Wait 'til you see our bed."

Mycroft's eyes grow wide.

"I'm kidding!" Greg cries. "I'm just kidding. Not the bed. But…" He steps closer to Mycroft. "I thought you'd need a bit of persuasion, so I put on some personal decoration I used for one Cup match I attended in my twenties."

Mycroft grows a confused look.

Greg glances down his own body, then takes the drink out of Mycroft's hand to push the now free hand down to his jeans.

Still confused, Mycroft slowly unzips and unbuttons Greg's jeans, then shoves them a bit down his hips. His eyes grow wide and he licks his lips.

"You…you wore these to a match once?"

"Sure. Had these, painted my chest, a flag as a cape around my neck, and that was it."

Mycroft licks his lips again, unable to look away. Greg leans forward and licks his ear.

Suddenly, Mycroft grabs Greg by the band of the tiny, tiny British flag pants and pulls him to their bedroom. Greg downs the last of Mycroft's drink and grins widely.

* * *

><p><strong>Couple 2<strong>

* * *

><p>John stares impatiently at Sherlock while Sherlock sloshes a swig of tea around his mouth.<p>

"Columbia and Ivory Coast."

John moves to write, but quickly stops. "Really? Ivory Coast?"

"Do not question me, John. It's not as though I _like _being used like this."

And used is what he is being.

When Sherlock had joked long, long ago that he could predict the lottery numbers, of course John knew he was joking. It wasn't until the summer of 2012 that John actually started believing his prediction abilities.

John had been stressing about the England against Italy quarterfinal game for days. He had so much faith in England pulling through and winning, and finally Sherlock, who was tired of his stress, said, "I don't know why you're stressing. Italy is going to win."

John was offended, of course. "How patriotic of you."

"It's not about being patriotic, of course I just don't care about the result. I'll even tell you that they'll lose in a…what's it called? At the end when nobody's scored and—"

"A penalty shoot-out?"

"That's it," Sherlock muttered, then swept out of the room.

In the end, that is exactly what happened, so the next game John asked Sherlock what would happen.

He was right about Spain winning the semi-final against Portugal, and about Italy beating Germany in the semi, so for the final John went to a pub to get into the bets. He ended up winning a thousand pounds thanks to Sherlock, so this year he isn't missing any chances.

Which is why he's staring at Sherlock waiting for his answer about the result of Group D.

"Italy and Costa Rica."

"Oh, come on!" John cries. "Not England?!"

Sherlock sighs and moves to get out of his seat.

John grabs his wrist. "Okay, I'm sorry. Please continue."

Sherlock looks at John. "What's in it for me anyway?"

"Part of the cut if he win."

"_When _we win."

John smiles. "Who's to win it all, then? Just so I know what we're working towards."

"Brazil."

"Really?"

"Of course. Brazil against Ivory Coast."

"Ivory Coast?!"

Sherlock shifts to stand again.

"I'm sorry that I am in disbelief of such a shocking outcome," John tries.

Sherlock sits again. "Fine. But I don't want money when we win."

"Okay," John says. "What do you want, then?"

Sherlock slowly grows a mischievous grin.

John eyes him. "What?"

Sherlock's smile only grows.

"No," John mutters. "No, no way, no."

"But John, you don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"No, absolutely not. No way am I letting you keep those livers in the fridge."

"Fine," Sherlock says. "I was lying about the outcome of the championship anyway."

John glares at him. "Were you?"

Sherlock examines a finger nail and shrugs.

John sighs in annoyance. "Fine," John says. "Fine. We win and you get to keep the livers in the fridge."

Sherlock smiles widely and leans forward to kiss John quickly.

"Okay," he says, "Who's next?"

* * *

><p><strong>Couple 3<strong>

* * *

><p>Sebastian's need to prove his masculinity makes Jim roll his eyes. He doesn't care that Sebastian lifts weights, he doesn't care that Sebastian orders steak at dinner, he doesn't care that Sebastian sometimes has to assert his force in bed (in a good way).<p>

What he cares about is that Sebastian saved up his year's vacation to spend an entire _month _off just to watch football. To sit around and do nothing to watch football. At least he bathes when there isn't a match on, because if he didn't then Jim would seriously consider renting a new flat for a month.

Jim wanders into the sitting room where Sebastian is watching the (Jim glances at the television) Spain against Netherlands game.

He throws himself onto the sofa, mashed right up next to Sebastian.

"What's the score?" Jim asks, pretending to sound interested.

"Zip zip," Sebastian says. "But Netherlands is going to win. How could they not, with what they have to prove."

Jim reaches for Sebastian's beer and takes a drink. He makes a face and slips it back into Sebastian's hand. "I thought you liked Spain."

He can hear Sebastian's smile, no doubt pleased to know that Jim actually listens to him. "Netherlands has something to prove," Sebastian answers. "And with Robben and Van Persie up top, nothing can stop them."

"Van Persie, that's the bloke you like from Manchester, yes?"

"Aww, baby, you do listen."

Jim doesn't say anything to that. He reaches over and drinks the last two gulps of Sebastian's beer.

"Another?" he asks.

"Sure," Sebastian says, smiling as Jim gets up.

He returns and hands Sebastian the drink.

"Alright, what do you want?" Sebastian asks.

"Nothing, I want you to enjoy the match."

Sebastian eyes him, but he gladly drinks the new beer.

Jim grows bored quickly, of course. He doesn't care about football, never has and never will no matter how much Sebastian tries to teach him to love it. He just doesn't care. And he wants the television off so he can have a nice, quiet evening. With the day he had without Sebastian, he deserves it.

He starts with the distraction against football by kissing Sebastian's cheek. Sebastian smiles, and Jim kisses the dimple formed there.

He kisses down Sebastian's cheek, to his jaw, then Jim licks the stubble grown there. Oh, how he likes that stubble. It's so sexy when Sebastian misses a few shaves. Of course, he'd never tell Sebastian that. If he did, Sebastian would jump right into the loo to shave, no matter what he was doing at the time.

When he gets to Sebastian's neck, Sebastian tilts his head to allow Jim access to more of his neck. Jim takes the hint and licks, then sucks faintly where he knows Sebastian would like it.

He's rewarded with a small moan.

"What're you trying to do?" Sebastian asks, smiling. "I'm not going to turn off the television."

Jim kisses down his neck while lifting the bottom of his shirt up his stomach. He rubs the trail of hair from Sebastian's belly button that disappears below his pants (only pants, no jeans, no sweats, just underpants), then up to one of his nipples.

Sebastian sighs when Jim dips his head to lick Sebastian's chest. He spreads his legs, hoping Jim would take the hint, but Jim doesn't move.

"This is nice," Sebastian says, lust dripping in his voice.

Jim begins to kiss down his chest to stomach.

"You doing this while watching these hot, sweaty Spaniards run around a pitch, their kits sticking to—OW!"

Jim sits up, face red with irritation. Sebastian rubs the spot where Jim just bit and laughs.

"I'm sorry, I had to!"

Jim glares harder, then throws himself off the sofa and stomps off to their bedroom. Sebastian isn't upset by the loss, he's just glad he can watch the rest of the match.


End file.
